


A Modern Way Of Living With The Truth

by CloseToSomethingReal



Series: We're Only Human (After All) [1]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Adoption, Alcoholism, Aziraphale has a bookshop (eventually), Blood, Broken Bones, Crowley is a florist, Crowley is genderfluid, Gangs, Guns, Human AU, Kidnapping, M/M, Manipulation, Murder, No beta we fall like Crowley, Parent AU, Robbery gone wrong, Transphobia, massive injuries
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-19
Updated: 2021-01-04
Packaged: 2021-03-02 05:20:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 45
Words: 130,142
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23739733
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CloseToSomethingReal/pseuds/CloseToSomethingReal
Summary: Ezra Fell is just as stunned as Adam Young when he's granted custody of the boy after the untimely demise of his parents. Though their relationship is rocky, they eventually settle in a bookshop in London and try to live a normal life.Across the road is a florist. Ezra thought him to be just another neighbour until he ran across the road, yelling that Adam had gotten into an altercation his son at school.Crowley has been running "Fleurish Flowers" for the last nine years, exactly as long as he'd had Warlock, although those two were not connected. All was relatively normal in his life until the odd bookshop moved in across the street.An odd bookshop, with an even more odd, yet somehow fascinating, owner.Cover Art by me
Series: We're Only Human (After All) [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1996570
Comments: 436
Kudos: 126





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, I would just like to formally credit this idea to [ineffablegame](https://ineffablegame.tumblr.com/) on tumblr, they're the genius who came up with this and blessed me by letting me write something for it. Do go check out their blog and writing, they're truly incredible!  
> Title is subject to change, I kind of? like this one but might think of something more fitting further in.

Ezra Fell dared glance up at the sullen boy sitting across the room at him once again. His green eyes met the boy’s blue ones and instantly flicked back down. His bit his lip. 

“I’m sure this is a surprise to the both of you, but the instructions for Adam were very clear. In the event of the untimely demise of his parents, such as in this terrible fire, he is to be placed with his closest living relative,” the stern looking woman behind the desk explained. Her dark hair was cut severely straight at her jaw. The nameplate on her desk read “Mary Hodges.” 

“Closest living relative,” Ezra repeated, frowning. 

“Exactly. Given that you live in virtually the same town he grew up in, that would be you. Such a tragedy about your…” 

“Third cousin, twice-removed,” Ezra replied. 

A cousin he hadn’t even known existed. 

“I don’t think that’s what the phrase ‘closest living relative’ means,” the boy sitting across the room interrupted. “Seriously, what kind of a lawyer are you?” 

The woman looked offended. “I’m an excellent lawyer! Just passed the bar recently, and I’ve been placed in charge of your parents’ will and will execute it to the best of my capabilities as a lawyer. Now, Mister Fell, there’s a few things I need you to sign, and there will be more shortly, but this will just clear everything up for the time being. You understand that you are to become Master Young’s legal guardian, and will therefore be responsible for his health, wellbeing and education?” 

Ezra glanced back at the boy sitting on the chair, who didn’t look up at him. “I… well, I suppose I do,” he agreed, nervous. 

“Excellent! Let’s get the paperwork filled out, and you two can be on your way.” 

Ezra picked up a pen out of the cup on the desk, and set about reading the papers, including the fine print. One could never be too careful with legal documents. 

“Well, Adam, shall we be off? I know this is a lot to take in, but I’ve often found that a nice cup of cocoa and a cozy seat at home can help,” Ezra offered, holding out a hand to help the boy up and out of his seat.

“My home burned down.” 

Ezra bit his lip. “I’m sorry, it was a slip of the tongue. I do hope someday you will come to view my home as yours, but for now, it can be a safe place for you.” 

Adam stared up at him with intense blue eyes. “Safe place? I don’t even know you!” He cried, ignoring Ezra’s offered hand and getting to his feet. 

“Well- yes, you’re quite right. I suppose we haven’t met before. My name is Ezra Fell, dear boy,” Ezra said, undeterred by Adam’s cold front. “I understand that my distant cousin Arthur was your father.” 

Adam didn’t reply. Ezra sighed. “Come, dear boy, let’s get back to my home and we can get you settled in for the evening. Tomorrow we’ll go out and get you your essentials.”

Adam still didn’t reply, but followed Ezra when he made for the door of the lawyer’s office. Ezra could hear the boy’s footfalls behind his own as he headed outside. 

“I’m truly sorry about your parents, dear. I’m sure they were lovely people,” he said as he approached the taxi he had called to bring them home. “You must miss them very much,” he continued, opening the rear door for Adam. The boy got settled in the back of the car without Ezra’s assistance. 

Ezra sat down beside the driver, gave him the address. The driver nodded and sped off for Ezra’s cozy little cottage. 

Adam didn’t speak the whole way home. Ezra tried not to take it as a bad sign. He simply settled into his seat, and waited until they arrived home to approach the boy again. 

When the taxi stopped in front of Ezra’s cottage, Ezra paid the driver and gave him and gave him a generous tip, and then walked out to let Adam out of the vehicle. “Here we are, Adam, do follow me? There’s a spare room that I’ll move you into, I’m afraid I don’t have much in the house for children, but that will surely change. It’s a bit small, but I do hope you’ll like it, and you may feel free to read any of the books inside,” he offered, walking up the small, yellow-painted front porch, and unlocked the front door. “Just do use the proper precautions when handling some of them, they’re far older than you or I.”

He walked Adam inside, past the bookshelves lining the walls and into the spare room. The boy sat down on the bed.

“You will tell me if something is not to your liking? I want you to be as comfortable as possible,” Ezra said, looking around the room. “I know it’s fairly empty, like I said, we can go out and get you some things tomorrow. In the meantime, is there something you would like for dinner? I’m not a particularly good cook, I prefer to go out to eat, but I can’t imagine you want to go out again today.”

Adam didn’t reply. Ezra sat down on the bed next to him. “I know this is a lot, dear boy, and I’m not trying to overwhelm you. If you would prefer, I could simply let you be for the rest of the evening. You can eat dinner in here, I won’t bother you. We can try this again in the morning.”

“What am I supposed to call you?” Adam asked. “You’re not my dad, you’re not my uncle, I don’t even know you!”

Ezra contemplated that for a moment. “I suppose Ezra would make the most sense,” he decided, “given that you don’t know me. Perhaps someday it can become Uncle Ezra, but for now, Ezra will do just fine. And I am sorry that you’ve been handed off to a stranger. Perhaps, if you give it a chance, I won’t always be one? I do wish for your time with me to be as pleasant as it can be, all circumstances considered.”

True to form, Adam didn’t answer him. Ezra stayed seated on the bed for a few more moments, and then stood.

“I’ll bring you some dinner up here. There are books, well, all around, the bathroom is down the hall, and there is a computer in my room and I am sure you would be able to convince the old machine to allow you a game of pinball or two. Do make yourself at home, and if you need anything, just call. I’ll be in the kitchen,” he told the boy.

He would make some nice pasta, nothing that would take too long, but something nice and warm and easy to eat. He couldn’t imagine what the poor child was going through, and some pasta and cocoa did have the power to make Ezra feel better, so maybe it could help just a bit with what Adam was experiencing.

He had to be honest, he had never met his distant cousin, Arthur, or his wife, Diedre, nor this child before today. He had a feeling that the lawyer had misinterpreted their will as well, but he was just going to have to make the best of it. There was nothing else to do about it.

He busied himself in the kitchen, filling a pot with some water and salt and setting it to boil. He liked to make his own pasta sauce, so he pulled down a can of tomato paste and various other spices, and placed them in another pot on the stovetop. Soon, the kitchen smelled strongly of tomatoes and oregano and basil, and Ezra barely noticed Adam walk in.

He whirled around, wooden spoon in his hand, grinned at the boy. “Is there something you need, Adam? I’m just making some pasta, it will be done soon.”

Adam frowned. “I’m just looking for the bathroom.”

Ezra nodded. “Come with me, dear boy, it’s just back down the hall near your room.”

He led the boy back down the hallway to the bathroom, then returned to the kitchen in time to finish up the sauce and strain the pasta. Quite pleased with himself, it smelled delicious, he mixed the pasta with the sauce and dished out two portions. 

Sat one on the dinner table, carried the other back to the spare room. Adam was back on the bed, sitting and staring at the floor. He knocked gently on the door. “Adam? I have some dinner, do you want it?”

“No,” the boy said sullenly. 

Ezra wasn’t sure what he was meant to say to that. “Shall I keep it warm for you?” He offered, still standing in the doorway. “You may feel better with some food in you,” he continued, “I’ll make some cocoa and bring that over as well-” 

“I don’t want any pasta, or cocoa, Ezra. I just want you to leave me alone!” Adam snapped. 

Ezra ducked his head and left the doorway.

The shop was dark, once the curtains were drawn closed and the lights flicked off. Breathing a sigh of relief, the owner pulled off his sunglasses and slipped them into the pocket of his black blazer.

The owner, known as Anthony J. Crowley of _Fleurish Flowers_ , blinked a couple of times as his eyes adjusted to the faint light still coming into the shop, but was relieved to find it was dark enough not to start to gnaw at his temples and cause a migraine. 

Then he looked around the room. 

Crowley smiled to himself, plucked a fuschia from a nearby display that clearly wouldn't make it until Wednesday when the shop reopened and tossed it into a waste bag on the side of the shop.

The shop may have been closed, but there was work to be done, still. Carefully, the man went through each of the floral displays, picking out imperfections and flowers that were beginning to droop, despite his best efforts and most sincere threats.

Then he cashed out and closed up the till, locking the contents of the float in the safe under the counter. 

Finally, Crowley pulled out his phone to order in some food, because business today had left him tired and he didn't feel like cooking supper for himself and the child upstairs. 

He waltzed back into the living space of the building that housed himself, a soon-to-be eleven year old boy, and his flower shop, sat down on the counter as he examined the fast-food menu to see if there was something he had forgotten to order. 

There wasn't. Perfect. 

The food would be there in about half an hour, so Crowley set down his phone and walked into the sitting room. 

The shop was cozy, but the apartment behind it was not. A large kitchen, a dining room and sitting room was on the main floor, as well as a bathroom that was large enough that it doubled for a laundry room. Above the shop, there was another bathroom that Crowley mostly let Warlock run amuck in, two bedrooms and another, although slightly smaller, sitting area. That one was mostly full of boxes of things Crowley always said he would go through and never did. 

Crowley flicked on the television, found a channel running _Golden Girls_ in syndication, and settled down onto the couch to wait for dinner to arrive. 

The credits were just starting to roll when there was a knock at the door. Crowley sprang up, put his glasses back on and opened the back door to the delivery man. 

He quickly paid for the food and sent the man on his way, set the food on the dining table.

“Warlock! It’s dinner time, get down here!” He shouted up the stairs.

“One minute, Anthony!” 

“One minute and it might all be gone!” Crowley said, beginning to unpack the meal.

“It won’t be, you never eat anything anyways!” Warlock retorted, running down the stairs. 

Crowley supposed he was right, but that didn’t mean he had to like it. “Go wash up for dinner, Warlock. I ordered in chinese. Didn’t feel much like cooking, and I knew you weren’t going to.” He gave the boy a good-natured smile. They both knew he was joking. Although soon he would teach Warlock some basic culinary skills, Crowley wasn't likely to expect him to cook meals for quite a few more years.

“I’m only ten years old, Anthony. You can’t expect me to cook, it’s dangerous to use a stove!” Warlock reasoned, walking into the kitchen to wash his hands before sitting down at the dinner table and grabbing a box of takeout from the middle of the table. 

“Leave some of that for me, Warlock!" Anthony warned, reaching into the fridge and pouring himself a glass of red wine before sitting down beside the young boy. 

"I will, I will! Don't worry!" Warlock portioned himself some of the takeout chow mein, and passed the container to Crowley. 

Crowley smiled at him. "I'm giving you a hard time, kid. Did you have a good day?" 

"I did. Did you sell lots of flowers?" Warlock asked. 

"Eh, it's not really flower giving season. Lots of people admiring, not a lot of purchases beyond a couple of roses for sweethearts. Business as usual," Crowley replied, taking a sip of his wine. "Got any plans tomorrow? I thought we could go to the zoo. The shop is closed on Tuesdays, after all. We could see some snakes!." 

"Snake in here not enough?" Warlock asked with a laugh. 

"There's more than snakes at the zoo, Warlock, you just know the snakes are my favourites," Crowley laughed, "and our particular snake will enjoy some time with us out of the house. You know how moody she is, and she's about ready to shed so she'll be even worse. But we don't have to go if you're not interested." 

"No no, it sounds like fun, Anthony. We should go. Just so long as you don't pick a fight with the cobra again," Warlock replied, "I know you've got a stare like them, but it's no reason to go around challenging them."

"If I can win a fight with our python, I can win a fight with the cobra in the zoo. But, if you insist, I'll play nice," Crowley assured him with a laugh. "Keep my glasses on the whole time and everything. Was there anything you wanted to do tonight?" 

"Honestly, I wanted to call a friend. Why, did you have any plans?" 

Crowley shook his head. "Thought it could be an easy night. It is summer vacation, after all. No need to be hustling and bustling about all the time. And before you ask, yes, I submit those papers to your new school on time. You're all set to start there in the fall."

"Thanks, Anthony. I couldn't last another minute in that stuffy old private school!"

"Oh, you made that abundantly clear, don't worry. I hope you like this one better. It does seem like a nice place,” Crowley said, poking his chow mien around with a fork before taking a bite. “Lots of other students, a lot of teachers who won’t care who you are, all of that. Everything you wanted! The uniform is a little less strict, too.”

“I never had a problem with the uniform, it was the people around and how strict everything _else_ was, Anthony.”

“I know, Warlock, I just thought you might like to know that this one allows hair dyes and piercings. That said, you and I are going to have to talk about anything beyond ear piercings, you’re still pretty young for anything else.”

Warlock laughed. “Don’t want any piercings, Anthony. At least not yet.”

“That’s a relief, I thought I was going to have to argue with you about which ones look coolest,” Crowley replied.

Warlock snickered and finished his supper.

“Don’t stay up all night on the phone, Warlock, I will be upstairs around ten to check on you,” Crowley warned. “It’s summer break and you know that I don’t really care how late you stay up, but by ten you should be being quiet.”

“I know, Anthony, that’s always been the rule,” Warlock reminded him, rolling his eyes. “Besides, I don’t want to be exhausted if we’re going to the zoo tomorrow!”

“Exactly,” Crowley agreed. Gave the boy a hug before he went upstairs.

Still on the main floor, Crowley made a few phone calls, he was going to need some new stocks by Wednesday when the shop reopened, summed up some bills and once again found that he wasn’t nearing needing to worry about how the shop was doing. He was a good florist, and people in Soho knew it. When they wanted something nice, they came to him.

He’d just gotten out of the rush of proud parents and grandparents buying their graduates flowers into a bit of a break, but it was nothing concerning. He had a wedding coming up in two weeks that was going to need his attention. The grooms had this brilliant, neon green as one of their colours, much to Crowley’s distain, and were insistent on finding flowers that matched, so Crowley was being forced to make phone call after phone call, trying to find someone who could get him the closest to neon green flowers. So far, he had not had much luck beyond carnations, which everyone knew you could make any colour with a bit of food colouring and some patience.

After a few more fruitless phone calls, he had a message from a number that prompted him to delete it without listening and put his phone away. He could hear Warlock chatting upstairs, he opted to just go back to the _Golden Girls_ marathon that was playing on the television.

Each time his phone rang again that night, he let it go to voicemail.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Adam and Ezra move into their new home, Crowley talks with an old friend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I forgot to mark this as a continuing work when I made it, so, for the record, it is a continuing work! I wrote a whole plot idea thingy in two hours and will now spend the next who knows how many months typing it out before burning out and having no idea what to write for a while, lol.

“This will be good for both of us,” Ezra kept repeating, as though if he said it again and again and again it would somehow become true, and Adam would somehow believe him. "New surroundings, new school, new friends…" 

Even Ezra wasn't 100% convinced that the busy corner in Soho where he had managed to find a little shop for sale was the best place for him and Adam to go. He knew that had to get out of Tadfield, it had become abundantly clear that they couldn't stay there, but perhaps Soho had not been the right place. 

Now that they were hauling boxes into the little shop was the wrong time to be thinking about that. "The school in this area is known to be quite lovely. You should be able to make some friends your own age, not have to spend all day shut in with me."

Adam didn't reply. While it was true that they had both agreed on this move, the boy hadn't said a word since they had begun loading up the truck. 

Honestly, sometimes Ezra wondered if that wasn't the best situation. In the last month and a half, he had barely gotten a pleasant word out of the boy. Adam had plenty of scathing remarks for him, but nothing actually nice to say. 

Ezra tried not to take it personally. Adam had been through a lot lately, from going through what was left of his house to his parents funeral to moving from the quiet little town of Tadfield all the way to Soho, London. 

So far, the only thing Ezra was completely convinced he had done right, was bringing Adam to the animal shelter shortly before his birthday. Adam had picked out a scruffy little dog, which he had comically named Dog. That very same dog was on a leash right now, standing at Adams feet and yapping at the cars that drove by.

Adam loved Dog. It was the one thing that Ezra was certain of. He hadn't been particularly enthusiastic about anything, and in fact it was the only thing he had asked for over the last month and a half. When Ezra had asked him what he wanted to do for his birthday, Adam had replied he didn't feel like having a party. Ezra had instead offered to make whatever he liked for dinner, and asked him what he wanted as a gift. 

Adam had confessed that his parents have never let him have a dog, and he would very much like one. Maybe he knew that Ezra was desperate to connect with him in some way, to get through to him, and wouldn't say no, so he was taking advantage. Either way, Ezra had agreed, and exactly one week before Adam's birthday they had gone to the local animal shelter, and he had instructed Adam to pick out a pet. 

On the strict conditions that Ezra did not wind up responsible for the animal. If Adam wanted a dog he could have a dog oh, but it was his responsibility. If one month after Adam's birthday he lost interest in the pet, then Ezra would set himself about in finding the dog a good forever home somewhere else. 

Thankfully, there was no indication that such a thing would be necessary. Adam looked after Dog joyfully, the only thing he seemed happy to do. 

So, while Ezra began hauling boxes into the shop, Adam was walking Dog around to see if he needed to pee. New to the area, and the hustle and bustle of the city, Ezra kept a careful eye on Adam, but the boy seemed to be doing fine on his own. 

"It's a nice neighbourhood here," he began, looking around as he stepped back outside and up to Adam. "A nice coffee shop next door, a tailor's down the street, and a florist across the road. I heard there's even an ice cream parlour just a few blocks away, we could go after dinner, if you like. Maybe they do doggy bowls for Dog, as well!" 

Adam gave a cursory glance around, didn't comment on the ice cream. "I'm going to take Dog inside so he can explore." 

Ezra nodded. "Of course, dear boy. The room in the very back of the store is for you, I'll have the movers bring your boxes there. Is there something you would like for dinner? We don't have a stove or a fridge, so I can't cook anything for us tonight." 

"Pizza would be cool." 

Ezra was so floored that he got a somewhat interested answer that he almost forgot to ask what Adam would like on it. _Almost._

As it turned out, the answer was simply pepperoni. Ezra could work with that. He called in for pizza while continuing to help the movers bring in boxes. He wanted to get unpacked as soon as possible, that way he could get around to getting his business license and setting up the shop as soon as possible. He was going to need some income coming in soon, he hadn't gotten enough from selling his house to move into Soho without some debts. 

Debts that he hoped his bookshop would soon make up for. 

But for now, he needed to get enough unpacked that he could spend the night in the new house. There were no bed frames, but the mattresses were being hauled in. He directed the movers to bring Adam's to the boy, got his own settled into his new room, dug the book he had been reading while they got packed up to move.

While he waited for dinner to arrive, he sat down on the mattress that had been moved onto the floor and resumed his reading. All of the boxes he could carry himself had been hauled in, he was deceptively strong, but old books were heavy and that was what he had hired movers for. It was time to sit back and relax a little, he would start unpacking after dinner. 

For now, he was content to sit and read. 

This was going to be a good move for them. Adam had been far too close to the ruins of his former life in Tadfield, they had both felt it. Neither of them could even start to try and move on, to become the family they were being forced to become, not with the shadow of the fire looming over them. 

Ezra was hoping that new surroundings would prompt the boy to open up to him a little more. Adam was nothing if not distant, he didn’t seem interested in getting to know his new guardian. Ezra couldn’t fault him for that, but he did hope that he would be offered a chance. He merely wanted to get to know the boy better. 

He was going to be his guardian for the next seven years, after all. It would be a very long and awkward seven years if Adam refused to warm up to him even a little bit. 

But he wouldn’t push the issue. Adam had lost so much, he couldn’t imagine trying to force the boy to open up to him. If Adam needed space, then he would have space. 

He would have whatever he needed. Ezra just wanted what was best for him. Just wanted him to have a chance at a semblance of a normal life. 

There was a knock at the door. Ezra went and answered it, paid for the pizza and brought it into what would eventually be the kitchen, when their appliances arrived tomorrow. 

He set the pizza on the counter, walked to the back of the little apartment behind the shop.

Knocked on the door, didn’t open it. “Adam, dinner is here. Would you like me to bring you some, or will you join me in the kitchen?”

For a moment, there was no answer. Ezra waited with bated breath, wondering if the boy was finally going to choose to dine with him. 

They had eaten separately almost every day. Ezra couldn’t help but wish that they were able to have some form of family dinner. 

“I’ll be right there, Ezra.” 

Ezra beamed. “I’ll see you there,” he said, and walked back to the kitchen. 

He pulled two chairs into the room, used the package of paper plates he had purchased during the move, since he wasn’t quite sure where the dishes had ended up. 

He set out a slice of pizza onto each of the two plates he pulled out, but didn’t start eating yet. It was impolite to start before everyone was there. He could wait until Adam got there. 

After ten minutes, the pizza was starting to get cold. Ezra realized with a sinking feeling that Adam must have changed his mind. 

He picked up the plate, it had grease spots soaked into it now, got a new plate, added another slice to the plate and walked it to Adam’s room. 

Knocked softly on the door. “Adam, dear boy? Dinner was getting cold, I thought I would bring it to you,” he called. 

The door opened. 

Adam had tears streaking his cheeks. Ezra set the pizza to the side in an instant, opened his arms and to his shock, Adam accepted the hug. “Are you alright, dear boy?” 

“I miss them,” Adam breathed. 

Ezra didn’t know what to say about that. He merely held onto Adam for as long as the boy would let him.

“Warlock! I told you yesterday that we had to go school supply shopping today, I _know_ you were up all night on that game again, but it’s not my fault and I don’t have another day to take you, so up you get!” Crowley called up the stairs. 

He received a groan in return. 

Warlock had received a second-hand copy of a pokemon game for his birthday from one of his friends, and he had been playing it almost constantly since then. It was almost a bigger hit than the cat that Crowley kept tripping over. 

In truth, Warlock had been pestering him for a cat for years, and finally, after one year of Warlock being solely responsible for their pet python, Pretzel, Crowley had conceded that he was responsible enough to have a cat. So, for his birthday, they had gone to an animal shelter, and Warlock and picked out the fluffiest, biggest, feistiest cat he could find in the shelter, which is how they wound up with a massive, long-haired calico that got fur all over Crowley’s black clothes in the house. Her name was Baron, and she was a right princess. 

Warlock adored her, which was good enough for Crowley. Besides, she would keep pests out of the shop, and she was good for cleaning up the mice that Pretzel decided she wasn’t going to eat. 

Pretzel had a thing against white mice, and Crowley could rarely manage to get a batch from his supplier that didn’t have at least one frozen white mouse. 

So now Baron could have a treat when Crowley came across one.

“Warlock! Your cat needs feeding and so do you, and we’re leaving in half an hour, whether you’re still in your pyjamas or not! I have a consultation this afternoon!” Crowley shouted at the top floor, and a few seconds later, he heard footfalls upstairs indicating that Warlock had gotten out of bed. 

While Warlock brushed his teeth and changed out of his pyjamas, Crowley finished making breakfast and walked over to check on Pretzel. She nipped at his hand as soon as he stuck it in the enclosure, and he chuckled and opted to leave her be until she was done shedding. Given that she was about to shed, she wouldn’t eat until that was done, anyways. He checked the temperatures, and humidity of the enclosure, and, satisfied that all was well with the snake, decided it was a good plan to leave her be for the rest of the day. He would check the tank again before going to bed, but wouldn’t disturb Pretzel again until she was done shedding and wanted something to eat. 

Warlock walked down the stairs as he was walking away from Pretzel’s enclosure, grabbed the cat food and poured Baron her breakfast. The cat wound herself around his ankles and purred, but hissed with Crowley reached out to her. 

Warlock really had picked the most cantankerous cat he could find. In a way, Crowley was proud. 

“There’s eggs and bacon in the kitchen for breakfast, Warlock, do try to be done as soon as possible. You have quite a long supply list this year,” Crowley said, “and I don’t really have another good day to take you shopping. If we have to, we’ll find another one, but if we could get it all done today that would be preferable.”

“Okay, Anthony,” Warlock agreed, rubbed the top of Baron’s head and went into the kitchen to eat. 

Crowley looked in on the shop while Warlock was eating, saw that nothing was amiss. He had a consultation that afternoon, and it wouldn’t do if the shop looked like a mess, but the flowers he had left out last night still seemed to look fresh. 

He looked down at his phone. There were more messages left by the same number that had been calling him all summer. He didn’t listen to them, but dialled the number himself. 

“Crowley? Nice of you to finally call back, I was about to send someone to check in on you.” 

“Stop calling me. We’ve been over this. All is well over here, and do _not_ send someone here. You _know_ how I feel about exposing Warlock to any of this..” 

And he hung up. Stuck his phone in his pocket. 

Warlock walked up behind him. “Ready to go, Anthony.” 

“Good, let’s go get in the car,” Crowley replied, and headed for the back door. 

He walked outside and opened the garage door, but there was someone leaning against the Bentley parked within the garage. “Warlock, get in the car,” Crowley said quickly. 

“Who’s that?” 

“No one important,” Crowley replied, glaring at the figure leaning on the front of his car. “Just an old friend.”

Warlock, thankfully, didn’t argue with him. He walked to the back seat of the Bentley and climbed in. 

“Bee said they hadn’t sent anyone yet.”  
“I’m not here on Bee’s orders, I’m just checking in for myself, Crowley,” the figure replied. “You haven’t been taking our calls.” 

“I believe the arrangement we came to didn’t require me to, Ligur,” Crowley replied, “I was under the impression that this was going to be a very minimal-contact affair. It has been for the last nine years.” 

“There’s another job.” 

“Not interested. I need to take Warlock school shopping, you can show yourself out, since you showed yourself in, Ligur,” Crowley said. 

Ligur looked about to say more, but Crowley walked past him and climbed into the driver’s seat, started the engine and his former acquaintance seemed to realize that he didn’t intend to sit and wait for him to move when he dropped the car into gear. 

Ligur moved out of the way, and waved as Crowley drove out of the garage, glaring daggers at him. 

“Anthony? What was that all about?” 

“He was just checking in with me. It’s been a very long time since I saw him. Nothing to worry about,” Crowley replied, flicking on the radio. 

Warlock didn’t question further, he let Crowley drive them to the mall, where they would get most of the supplies he needed for school. 

“Can we look for toys for Baron while we’re out, too?” Warlock asked. 

“If we have time, we’ll drop by a pet store on the way home,” Crowley replied, “but we have to get the supplies, first, got it?” 

“Got it, Anthony,” Warlock agreed. 

Still, they barely made it back in time for the consultation, because Crowley had reluctantly agreed to go into the pet store and they hadn’t walked out until almost an hour after, armed with new toys for Baron and some supplies that were dwindling for Pretzel, and Warlock having said hello to every single animal in the store. 

Quick as he could, Crowley parked the car back in the garage, helped Warlock unload his school supplies, and went and flicked on the lights in the shop just as his clients were walking up to the door. He greeted them with a smile, trying to act like he hadn’t gotten home mere minutes before they had arrived.

Thankfully, if the couple noticed, they didn’t say anything about it, and they were soon out of Crowley’s hair, content with some of his suggestions and ready to wait until closer to the wedding to finalize plans. 

It was to be an autumn wedding, and Crowley had plenty of ideas for those. There were so many colours to use for autumn weddings that just weren’t appropriate for other times of year, they were some of his favourites to supply for. 

Once he might have been foolish enough to envision an autumn wedding for himself, but the faster he approached forty, the more obvious that a wedding was not likely for him became. 

Besides, he simply had too much else going on to be worrying about romance. He’d wasted his youth on other things, and his time now that he was older was spent looking after Warlock, not going through Tinder. 

He glanced outside, saw a moving van was approaching the shop that had long been empty, across the street from _Fleurish Flowers._

He waited for long enough to see another vehicle arrive, containing a boy around Warlock’s age, a dog, and a ridiculously dressed man, and decided that was enough interest in his neighbours for the day. 

He had dinner to make, and he had never been that interested in getting to know the people around him. He had a few people he could call on to look after Warlock when he needed, and that was good enough for him. 

He stepped away from the door of his shop and into the kitchen.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warlock comes home with a black eye, Ezra tries and fails to get through to Adam.

“Warlock, will you tell me what happened at school? I did just pick you up from school because they called and said you’d been in a fight!” Crowley said the moment he put the car in park. “You look terrible, you’ll need some ice for that bruise, come inside, sorry, I should have handled that before demanding answers. But your principal wouldn’t tell me anything about what had happened!”

Crowley ushered the boy inside, found an ice pack for the bruise around his eye, sat him down on the couch and brought a snack into the living room for them to share. “Alright. Can you tell me now?”

“I don’t know what happened, Anthony. I was just talking to another new kid and he freaked out and punched me in the face!” Warlock replied, pressing the ice against his face. “Honest, I don’t know what happened!”

“Who was it?” Crowley asked.

“A boy named Adam Young. Apparently, they just moved here from Tadfield, and that’s about all I got out of him before he hit me! I was just trying to be friendly, I thought I might have more luck with another new kid, instead of trying to bust into groups of people who had been friends for ages, and this is what I get!” Warlock replied.

Crowley frowned. “He just hit you out of nowhere?” He asked.

It was hard to believe. No parent wanted to think the worst of their child, but Crowley doubted that  _ all _ Warlock had done was talk. His adopted son had an attitude that had been known to get him into trouble in the past.

“I really don’t know why he hit me, Anthony. I was telling him about Baron and Pretzel, asked him if his parents let him have any pets, and the next thing I knew he was swinging at me!” Warlock declared.

That was odd, and if that was the case, it really didn’t sound like Warlock had done much to provoke the encounter. It was the first day of the new school year, it wasn’t like this Adam Young from Tadfield could already have an issue with Warlock, as far as Crowley knew, they had never met until this morning.

“If that’s the case, perhaps I ought to have a word with his parents! You’re not little boys anymore, there’s no excuse for getting into fights over nothing,” Crowley mused, “I wonder if I could get the school to tell me his home number…”

“You don’t have to, Anthony. He lives across the road, in the new bookshop.”

Crowley frowned. “You asked the boy with the extremely yappy dog if his parents let him have pets?” He asked, almost managing not to laugh.

“I didn’t want to seem like a stalker and say, ‘hey, I saw you had a dog, that’s pretty cool.’ I thought asking was a good way to start talking!” Warlock said indignantly, scooping his cat off the floor as she walked by his feet and cuddling her against his chest. “Who gets upset talking about pets, except him?”

Crowley supposed his son had a point. “And you’re sure it’s the boy who lives across the road, at the bookshop?” He asked, narrowing his eyes behind his dark sunglasses.

Warlock nodded vigorously. “It’s him, Anthony, I recognized him.”

Crowley nodded. “Well, it’s still early, how about I make us some lunch? You’re not to go back to school today, I have to open for the afternoon, and I’ll go have a talk with the owner of that bookshop after dinner,” he decided, “someone needs to teach him proper child-rearing, if his son thinks  _ this _ is acceptable!”

He walked up to Warlock, traced his thumb against the dark bruise. “That’s going to be there for a while, Lockie. He got you pretty good. Did you get him back?”

Warlock shook his head. “The teacher noticed before I could do anything.”

“Good boy. I couldn’t go talk to that shop owner if you had hit his son back,” he said, smiling a little bit. “Now, what do you want for lunch?”

After lunch, Crowley, true to his word, opened the shop back up, although he admittedly kept a close eye on the bookshop across the road.

No boy got away with giving his son a black eye over asking a simple question. He knew this was London, but it wasn’t a jungle. He was going to have words with that boy’s father about what appropriate behaviour for eleven-year-old children was.

But for now, he had a shop to run. He didn’t have a lot of customers come in, but he did manage to sell a couple of bouquets, and even arrange a consultation the next day.

He could use another party to decorate, and this time, it was a couple’s 50 th anniversary.

They made good publicity, and paid a pretty penny for the flowers he brought in.

That was really all he could ask for in a job.

After a few more sales, closing time came, and he shut down the shop and walked back into the dimly lit flat. He pulled off his sunglasses, tried to sit and relax before he got to making dinner but he found he was anxious to have a talk with Adam Young’s father. 

Warlock had been in fights before, but not like this. He was absolutely furious. Warlock had done nothing to provoke such actions, and after his son had just changed schools to try and have a better time during this year, and the first thing that happened was some boy gave him a bloody shiner. 

Relaxing was not going to happen. Crowley sniffed, got to his feet and walked into the kitchen. 

He hadn’t quite decided what they were going to have for dinner, was starting to pull down pasta when he remembered he had potatoes to use up before they started sprouting and opted to make a stew instead. 

Hopefully, chopping vegetables and cooking up the beef a bit before he dumped it in the pot would take his mind off of how angry he was. He wanted to be angry, but he didn’t want to scare the bookshop owner into not letting him in. He needed to have words. He was a good father, or he wanted to be, and he was going to stick up for his son.

A good father who at the moment, nearly sliced the tip of his finger off trying to cut carrots because he wasn’t paying enough attention to what he was doing. Angry or not, he was going to have to pay attention to what he was doing.

The stew took a while to make, but soon enough he was calling Warlock down the stairs for dinner. The boy made a face at the sight of the stew pot on the stovetop, Crowley raised an eyebrow, daring him to complain.

He knew Warlock wasn’t a fan of stew, and he didn’t make it very often, but sometimes it was the easiest option, such as today.

Warlock washed his hands in the kitchen sink and begrudgingly tucked into the bowl of stew Crowley set in front of him.

“I’ll go speak to Master Young’s father after dinner, can you handle the dishes for tonight? Most of this can just go in the dishwasher, I just need you to scrub out the stew pot. I’ll let Shadwell and Tracy know you’re here on your own, but I won’t be long.”

Shadwell, or Sergeant Shadwell, and Madame Tracy lived next door to the florist. Crowley often called on them to look after Warlock when he had to go out without the boy.

“Anthony, you really don’t have to go over there. I’m sure the teachers will handle it tomorrow at school,” Warlock said, looking up from his stew.

“I  _ want _ to go talk to him. I haven’t had the chance to introduce myself yet, and maybe it’ll do his brat good to know that the boy he hit at school is his neighbour,” Crowley replied, “make him think twice about hitting the next boy.”

Warlock sighed. “I can’t reason you out of this, can I, Anthony?”

“Lockie, I’m just trying to look out for you.”

“I know, Anthony. Just don’t get into any trouble over there, okay?”

“No promises.”

And that was what had led to Crowley, after letting Tracy know to listen for signs of trouble from Warlock, storming across the street and bursting into the bookshop.

“We’re closed!” A frantic voice, southern and prim, called into the front of the store.

“That’s good, I’m not here to buy a book!” Crowley called back. “We need to talk. And not about your books."

The oddly-dressed man Crowley had seen when they were moving in walked into the front of the store, looking confused. “Well then, my dear boy, what are you here for? I’m afraid you’ve caught me at a bad time,” he admitted, “my name is Ezra Fell, and you are?”

Crowley froze, ready to start yelling but found the anger died in his throat while staring at this man. “Anthony Crowley.”

Recognition dawned on the man’s face. “Oh, dear, you’re here about Adam…”

Ezra had been  _ furious _ when he received the phone call from the school, informing him that he needed to come pick Adam up, as he’d struck another boy. He had rushed himself to the school and grabbed Adam, preparing his reprimanding speech the whole way home, but now Adam had fled to his room before he’d gotten the chance to deliver it and he wasn’t sure he should invade the boy’s privacy for the first time simply to scold him. 

Surely a scolding could wait until after dinner, when everyone was a lot more calm. Ezra was certain that he would feel better by that evening, and contented himself to spend the afternoon reading in his bookshop, hoping for a customer that didn’t come. 

He didn’t  _ want _ to sell his books, many were priceless first-editions, but he had opened a bookshop, and if he didn’t sell  _ something _ he wasn’t going to be able to afford the lease. 

But so far, only two people had given him a chance to reluctantly part with one of his books, anyways. A few others had taken cursory looks around, but had left, presumably when they realized this was a collector’s shop, not a quaint little used bookshop. 

That was likely just as well. He wasn’t going to part with one of his books for what someone searching for a second-hand bookstore would be willing to pay. 

Since there were no customers, Ezra spent the afternoon reading. He was re-reading Oscar Wilde’s  _ The Picture Of Dorian Gray,  _ He had read it many times, his copy was old and worn and one of the books that were not for sale. Not that he believed anyone would want his copy, anyways. Unlike many of his collector’s items, he had not kept this one in tip-top condition. The spine was cracked, pages old and worn, some about ready to fall out of the binding. 

Ezra loved this copy. It had been a gift from his grandparents on his fifteenth birthday, and he had kept it all this time. There was no sense replacing what didn't need replacing.

He could feel himself relaxing as he read the book. There was no need to get angry, to yell, Adam already knew he was in trouble, that he had done something wrong. Ezra needed to discuss the  _ why _ with him and ensure that it didn't happen again. He didn't know why Adam would have struck a boy at school, apparently unprovoked, but he was sure there was a reason, no matter how irrational it was. 

They could surely talk this out, and get whatever had caused this sorted out and ensure that it wouldn't happen again. Ezra didn't want to scare Adam out of telling him what was wrong by being angry. He needed to get through to the boy, and if that meant not yelling at him, or putting him in trouble when he probably should, so be it. 

He would make a nice dinner, and they would talk this out. All would be well. Maybe he could get Adam to open up to him over this, and it would be a positive step in the long run. Maybe something good could come of this.

Adam certainly was going to have to apologize to the boy he had punched, though. That was not going to be acceptable behaviour in his house.

He understood that Adam was suffering. He had a feeling there was a much deeper cause then a boy at school irritating him today. He suspected Adam was lashing out at everything that'd put him here. In Soho, in Ezra's care, in a new school surrounded by new people.

It wasn't as though Ezra could blame him. He couldn't imagine what Adam was going through right now. The world was a cruel and unusual place, and Adam had borne the piece of it that no child deserved to. If the world was a kind and just place, Adam would be sitting at home with his parents right now. He still likely wouldn't even know that Ezra Fell was a part of his family.

He wouldn't be in a new bedroom, in a new city, in a new school, with a new guardian.

It truly wasn't fair.

But there was nothing Ezra could do to restore fairness in the world. Both he and Adam were going to have to learn to make the best of their new situation.

He hoped this wasn't going to blow up the fragile stability they were starting to have in it. Ezra was just starting to feel that Adam was willing to open up to him, and now this happened.

He sighed, walked himself into the kitchen, set his book down on the counter and began to prepare supper. This would all be easier after a good meal.

It had to be.

Adam didn't come down the hall for dinner. Ezra was at a loss for what to do. He loathed to disturb Adam's privacy, but they needed to talk. He had hoped Adam would come to him, and they could talk this out without either one feeling trapped, but Adam didn't seem keen on that.

So for the first time, Ezra was forced to invade the privacy he had given Adam from the very first day he had brought the boy home.

He walked down the hall, knocked on Adam's door. Dog barked at him, Adam shushed the creature and walked to open the door. 

"Yes Ezra?" 

"Adam, dear boy, I think you know that we need to talk," Ezra began. 

"Why." 

Ezra sighed. "Adam, I had to pick you up from school because you hit another young boy. There's talk of a suspension if this happens again." 

Adam didn't reply. 

"Look, I'm willing to forgive this but we need to talk. This time, there won't be any consequences, I know you're having a rough time right now, I just want to talk about why you did it. Your teacher tells me he couldn't figure out why you hit the other boy, he hadn't done anything apparently wrong. Did he upset you somehow? Perhaps I can talk to the school, get this all swept under the rug and handled. Trauma is no excuse for bad behaviour, but I doubt they'll do anything too severe once they understand  _ why  _ you did it, so long as it never happens again!" Ezra insisted. 

He paused, drew a breath. "This  _ won't _ happen again, will it Adam? You'll apologize to the boy and that will be the end of this? This isn't an appropriate way to handle your-" 

"Would you just  _ piss off?"  _ Adam snapped suddenly. "You're not my dad! I don't need you to lecture me on my behaviour, and I don't want you to! You're not my dad, and I don't have to listen to you! I'll do whatever I like, why do you care? You don't even know me!"

He slammed the door in Ezra's stunned face. 

Ezra had no idea what to do. But it wasn't as though he got a long time to dwell on it. He heard the door to the shop burst open, bell jangling as the door swung almost into the wall.

"We're closed!" He shouted it down the hall, cursing himself for forgetting to lock the front door. Surely it was just someone trying to browse who hadn't read the hours.

"That's good, I'm not here to buy a book! We need to talk," the voice shouted back at him. "And not about your books."

He didn't recognize the voice. It was sharp and loud, and its tongue lingered too long on the letter s, drawing it out. 

He rushed into the front of the store.

He found that he did vaguely recognize the man standing in his shop. He had seen him from across the road. It was the florist. 

He had bright red hair down to his shoulders, with the top half tied in a bun behind his head. He wore all black, a black blazer over a black shirt, with black- were those leather? trousers, and snakeskin print shoes.

He had on a pair of dark sunglasses. Try as he might, Ezra couldn't get a glimpse of his eyes through them. Though they were inside, he did not remove them. 

"Well then, my dear boy, what are you here for? I’m afraid you’ve caught me at a bad time,” he admitted, “my name is Ezra Fell, and you are?”

The man seems to hesitate to reply. "Anthony Crowley."

That name was familiar. Where had he heard it before? 

Wait, wasn't Crowley the last name of the child whom Adam had struck? Hadn't the principal said his name was Warlock Crowley? And he had seen a young boy running around the florist's before. "Oh, dear, you're here about Adam…" he trailed off, glanced at the floor, and the back up at the man, Mister Crowley.

What absolutely rotten timing. 


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warlock and Adam sort out their differences, Crowley and Ezra get to talking.

“Adam Young is your boy, correct?” The man, Mister Crowley, asked, raising an eyebrow above the edge of his sunglasses. 

“He’s, well, he’s my… distant cousin’s son, but yes, I am responsible for him,” Ezra agreed, biting at his lip. “It’s all very… complicated.”

“So was it you, or your cousin, who taught Adam that it’s appropriate to hit boys his age?” Mister Crowley asked, although some of the bite from his tone was gone. His tongue still lingered on the letter s, maybe it was a speech impediment. Ezra supposed it would be rude to remark on it. 

“Neither of us, Mister Crowley, I assure you, I’ve spoken to him and- well, I’m trying to speak to him. It’s been a very difficult summer, I’m afraid I can’t get him to listen to me at the moment…” Ezra trailed off.

This was not going well. He needed to buck up, to stand up for Adam and assure this man that all would be taken care of, not babble under the pressure of being interrogated. He cleared his throat, straightened his stance. “I assure you, Mister Crowley, that Adam will be properly dealt with. I can handle it,” he said, jutting his chin out. “He is  _ my _ charge.” 

The man looked at him skeptically. “Has he been in your care for long?” He asked, stance seeming a little less aggressive than it had a mere moment ago.

“Just the summer,” Ezra admitted, “there was a fire.” 

Crowley’s gaze softened a little. “Warlock’s adopted, too. He was a lot younger, but it gets easier,” he said, almost off-handedly. 

Ezra couldn’t be more surprised. “Mister Crowley, I don’t mean to be rude, but are you giving me parenting advice?” He asked, incredulous. 

Why would a complete stranger be offering him advice just minutes after he had wanted to get into a fight over their boys getting into a fight. 

Crowley looked him up and down. “Eh, you seem like you could use it,” he said, not seeming to hear how insulting that might be, but Ezra had to admit that he was right. 

“Perhaps I could. The point is, I’ll talk to Adam, but right now, he won’t let me. I  _ will _ make sure this doesn’t happen again, Mister Crowley. It’s just all a bit… messy, right now,” Ezra explained. 

Crowley considered that for a moment. “Families are messy. I’ve got an idea. Why don’t we see if the boys can sort this out themselves? Running over here might have been a bit of a rash decision on my part, I can see now that this was not a regular incident.” 

Ezra was getting more confused by the second. “Sort it out themselves?” 

“Sure! I’ll make tea, bring Adam over to the shop. Maybe we can get to the bottom of what happened. From what Warlock tells me, I don’t have a  _ clue _ why Adam hit him, but-” 

“What did Warlock tell you? Adam won’t tell me anything.” 

Crowley frowned. “Warlock said he was asking about pets. He already knew the answer, but he mentioned ours and asked if Adam’s parents let him have any of his own.” 

Ezra went silent for a second. “Adam’s parents...they died. In the fire. That’s why he’s in my care. I let him have Dog, they never let him have a pet.” 

Crowley didn’t reply immediately. 

“So it’s a sore spot,” he said, eventually. “The parents thing, I mean.” 

Ezra nodded. “I’m afraid so. It’s no excuse for what he did, of course, but it may make it seem a little more… understandable.” 

Crowley nodded. “I suppose it does. Now, tea here, or across the street?” 

“I’m sorry?” 

“I’m inviting you over for tea, Mister Fell-” 

“Just Ezra is fine, Mister Crowley. Is there something I should call you?” 

“Just Crowley will do, none of this “mister” business. So, Ezra, I’m inviting you over for tea, however, I am already here and could easily go and get Warlock if you think the conversation could go better here,” he offered. 

“I don’t know that I’ll convince Adam to leave his room, nevermind our house,” Ezra admitted. 

“Then let me go get Warlock,” Crowley said with a smile. 

And with that, he left the bookshop just as suddenly as he had burst in, sauntered across the road with a sort of swagger that Ezra could not comprehend how his hips allowed it, and opened the door to the florist’s across the street. 

Ezra blinked twice, tried to process what had just happened. 

Crowley had stormed across the street to yell at him, and then invited himself over for tea not two minutes later. It didn’t make any sense, Ezra wasn’t even sure why he had agreed to it, he should have been annoyed with someone barging into his shop and lecturing him on how to raise Adam, but now his feet led him down the hallway to Adam’s room. 

He knocked on the door. 

“Go away!” Adam snapped. 

“I’ve spoken to the boy’s father, he lives across the street. He thinks you two should try to settle this amongst yourselves, and I agree. I may not be your father, Adam, but I am your guardian, and you’re wrong, you  _ do _ have to listen to me. So out of this room, we’re having tea in the kitchen,” Ezra called through the door. 

“No.” 

“It is not up for debate, Adam.”

“And what are you going to do if I don’t?” Adam asked. 

Ezra thought about it. “Well, first of all, I believe that most parents agree that natural consequences are best, but in this case, I may have to inflict some. I might start with taking away some privileges, Adam. Perhaps that computer in my room will be off-limits to you? Or I shall make Dog sleep in the living room, you did have to convince me to let him sleep in your room at first. I shan’t harm you, or humiliate you or anything like that, I don’t believe in that sort of punishment, but there will be consequences if I don’t start getting the barest amount of respect from you, young man. We’re stuck with each other, whether you like it or not.” 

After a few minutes, Adam opened the door. “Good choice, Adam. Go wait in the kitchen, I’ll get a kettle on and await our guests.”

“You invited him  _ over?” _

“Well, really, he invited himself, but the point is, we’re having tea, and you boys are going to try to make nice. I’m sure Warlock didn’t do anything to upset you intentionally.”

Adam didn’t answer. He walked past Ezra to the kitchen, dragged a chair across the kitchen floor as he moved. 

Ezra didn’t feel like complaining. He had gotten Adam to listen to him, even just a little bit. He didn’t like having to threaten to punish the boy, but he was at a loss of what to do with Adam.

He walked into the kitchen, set a kettle of water on the stovetop, flicked it on. “Don’t touch that.”

Adam didn’t respond, and Ezra walked back to the front of the shop to await Crowley and Warlock. 

Crowley was already most of the way back, with a young boy with long black hair walking alongside him. Ezra held the door open as they arrived. 

“Come in, come in, I have a kettle on. Warlock, I might have some biscuits somewhere that you could share with Adam,” he said quickly, beckoning them inside. “Adam is waiting in the kitchen,” he continued, “which… I haven’t shown you where that is. Do follow me?” 

“Of course,” Crowley agreed, and Ezra led them into the back of the shop, and to the small kitchen. 

Adam was sitting at the table, kicking his feet and tapping his fingers. He looked up as Ezra re-entered the room, gazed over Crowley and Warlock and yawned. “This is stupid.” 

“First of all, Adam, this is not stupid. Second, you’re going to apologize to this boy over what you did to his eye! Just look at that bruise, I hope you’re ashamed of yourself,” Ezra scolded. 

Adam looked up at him sceptically. 

“Adam, I know that in your head, you have a reason why you hit this boy, but there was no real reason for you to do so. You’re going to apologize, and explain to Warlock why you hit him. I’m not going to stop pestering you until you do.” 

“Better idea,” Warlock interrupted. “Why don’t Adam and I go talk in a different room?” He asked. 

Crowley eyed him. “Are you sure?” He asked. 

“I’m sure, Anthony. I wouldn’t want to be supervised and have you breathing down my neck if I was supposed to apologize. Adam and I will go talk, you and Mister Fell-”

“Call me Ezra, dear.” 

“You and Ezra can chat in here. We’ll be fine.” 

Adam looked like he was about to protest, Warlock shot him a look. “Let’s go, Adam. Leave our parents to talk about this.” 

“I don’t have any parents.” 

Warlock looked between Adam and Ezra, and then nodded. “Fine. We’ll leave the adults to talk.” 

“You weren’t kidding when you said you can’t get through to that kid. He wants nothing to do with you,” Crowley remarked, once both boys had left the room.

He watched Ezra bristle at the comment, quickly backtracked. “I wasn’t criticizing, Ezra, just remarking. Warlock had a bought when he was seven when he wouldn’t listen to a damn word I said. I was told that would get more common the older he got. Can’t imagine going through it with a kid who I barely knew.”

“I can’t figure out how to talk to him,” Ezra confessed. Crowley gazed at him curiously from under his black shades.

He was still dressed in a very funny matter, his soft, white-blond hair was cropped close enough to his skull that it didn’t get much of a chance to get messy.

He had brilliant green eyes.

“Crowley, I can’t help but notice you’re still wearing sunglasses, which are typically an outdoor apparel. Did you forget?” Ezra asked suddenly, after a moment of Crowley being painfully aware he was being observed the same way he was observing Ezra.

“I didn’t forget, my eyes are sensitive to light. I get asked that a lot,” Crowley replied, a fact which didn’t make the question less tiresome.

“Oh, I’m so sorry, I never even considered- would it help if I-“

Before Crowley could say a word, Ezra rushed to the window above the sink and pulled down the blinds, and flicked off the light in the kitchen, opting to light a candle he had sitting on the counter instead. “Is that better? I don’t want you to be uncomfortable.”

Crowley couldn’t help but crack a bit of a smile. “You don’t have to do that,” he told Ezra. “I’m very used to it.” 

Still, he slid his sunglasses off his face. That seemed to be Ezra’s goal. He slipped them into his pocket, changed the subject. “Then you’ve gotta let him do the talking.” 

“He won’t speak to me. If I’m honest, Crowley, I’m at a complete loss with him,” Ezra said softly. He pulled the kettle, which was beginning to whistle, off the stovetop, pulled down two teacups and bags of tea, and poured them out. He handed one to Crowley. “I haven’t got a clue what to do.”

Crowley considered that. 

He’d adopted Warlock when the boy was two years old. From what he knew, Warlock barely remembered his birth parents, although they didn’t talk about them very often. For a very, very long time, he had been the only parental figure that Warlock had, it followed naturally that Warlock was only as rebellious and distant as the average eleven year old boy. 

“I’ve tried giving him his space, tried approaching him, we moved here because neither of us could stay in Tadfield anymore, that’s where his parents died but-” 

“How well did you know his parents?” Crowley asked. 

“I didn’t.” 

Crowley blinked. “You didn’t?” 

“I never met them. I met Adam when we were both in the lawyer’s office,” Ezra explained, sitting back down at the table. “I’m not sure how you wind up the chosen guardian of the son of a cousin who you never met, but I did. Maybe that’s half the problem, I don’t know anything about his parents and can’t even begin to replace them…” 

“You’re not replacing them, Ezra,” Crowley said quickly. “Hell, maybe that’s your problem! You’re not replacing his parents, and y’shouldn’t try to  _ be _ his parents. God knows Warlock knows I’m not his real dad.” 

“He seems to treat you like you are,” Ezra pointed out, “Adam apparently punched Warlock over asking if his parents let him have a pet, and Warlock refers to you as-” 

“Anthony.” 

“But he called us the parents.” 

“True, but he’s never called me dad. He calls me Anthony, Ezra, and that’s as much his choice as mine. If he asked me if he could call me dad, I would tell him yes. Point is, you’re not Adam’s dad, you’re not going to be, and the sooner you both establish that you’re not trying to be, the sooner I think he’s going to start resenting you a little less.”

“You think so?” 

“Can’t hurt to try,” Crowley said, shrugging his shoulders. “Speaking of the boys, I guess someone should check on them…” 

He looked around, but couldn’t quite remember which way Adam had led Warlock. 

Ezra paused for a moment. “I can’t hear them, perhaps we ought to let them sort this out without interfering. I’m sure that Warlock will come back if things go wrong, or when they’re done.” 

Crowley considered that. “You might be right. We’ll keep an ear out. Now, enough about the woes of adoption, what brought you to  _ Soho _ when you left Tadfield? This is a far cry from a little town outside Oxfordshire.” 

“You know where it is!” Ezra cried, beaming. “Hardly anyone does.” 

“I did the flowers for a wedding out there,” Crowley explained, “pink pansies.”

He barely remembered the wedding setup, just remembered that something had happened to his stock of pink pansies and he’d been rushing around, trying to find some new stocks of them. It had been a bit of a busy weekend, Warlock had wound up spending almost the entire thing with Sergeant Shadwell and Madame Tracy, something he had complained about for a long time after. 

“You do weddings?” Ezra asked, suddenly interested. 

“Course I do weddings, that’s a florist’s goldmine, Ezra. Can hardly get gigs better than weddings, anniversaries and funerals. A little morbid for the funerals, but it’s true. You didn’t answer my question, Ezra, why did you move all the way to Soho?” Crowley repeated. 

“Well, I thought that if we were going to change surroundings, we might as well really change things up. Besides, I had always fancied myself running a bookshop, and this seemed like a good chance to try it out. Do you read much?” 

“Hard to read in the dark,” Crowley replied with a smirk. 

“Oh, how horribly insensitive of me, I’m sorry-” 

“It’s fine, Ezra. Hardly the least sensitive thing I’ve heard in my life. Got bloody snake eyes, don’t I?” 

“I wasn’t going to mention that,” Ezra said quietly, “figured you wouldn’t like me asking.” 

“Nah, you’re right, gets annoying. Snake eyes are what causes the photophobia, so I’ve been told,” Crowley explained, “I listened to what I was assigned in high school on discs, and I’ve heard a few others in audiobooks. Something tells me that you like books an awful lot.”

“I do,” Ezra agreed with a grin. “I was just reading an old  _ Oscar Wilde _ this afternoon. I’ve had it for almost as long as I can remember.”

“And which one is that?” Crowley asked, raising an eyebrow. “I had to read  _ The Importance of Being Earnest  _ in high school. It was pretty funny.”

“That one is quite good. I was reading  _ The Picture of Dorian Gray. _ Have you heard that one before?”

“I can’t say that I have.”

“Oh, it’s truly delightful, if you like older literature. Now, if you prefer new forms for fiction, I’m not sure it would interest you, but I quite enjoy it,” Ezra said with a smile. 

“Well, you’ve hardly done a good job selling it, but perhaps if I can find a recording of it, I’ll give it a listen,” Crowley replied, taking a sip of his tea. “Been looking for something to listen to while cleaning up the shop, and sometimes music just doesn’t do it.”

“How long have you owned that shop?” Ezra asked. 

“Nine years,” Crowley replied quickly, sipped his tea again. “Wasn’t going well at first, but it turns out I’m a pretty decent florist.”

“What did you do before then?” Ezra asked. 

Crowley was silent for a moment. “Oh, not a lot,” he waved his hand. “Odd jobs, drove some people around.” 

“I’m sure your car was very popular for driving people around, it’s very nice. When did you get it?” 

“Bought it off someone when I was eighteen. It didn’t look like that before, but I restored it all back to factory original. Took me almost ten years to get it done,” Crowley admitted, “in the meantime, I drove something considerably less nice. Trust me, I wasn’t a popular driver for my car in those times.” 

Ezra stared at him in shock. “You rebuilt that?” He gasped. 

“I mean, pretty much. The previous owner had not kept it in good condition, that’s for sure. Threw it in his garage for fifty years, I heard about it from a friend and asked if he would part with it. Considering the shape it was in, he wanted a pretty penny for it. Took me a while to save it up, but I did,” Crowley replied with a smile. 

“I was never any good with cars,” Ezra admitted, “I’m not even a good driver.” 

Crowley was about to reply when Warlock walked into the kitchen. “Could we get those biscuits, Ezra? I didn’t eat much dinner.” 

“That was  _ your own _ choice, Warlock, I made plenty of food,” Crowley reminded him, raising an eyebrow. 

“I know!” 

Ezra just smiled. “Of course you can. Has Adam apologized?” 

“I think we’ve got it all figured out,” Warlock replied cryptically. 

Crowley supposed that was good enough.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Them try to build a bridge, Crowley invites Ezra and Adam over for dinner.

Tea-time in Ezra’s shop became a habit. 

Warlock didn’t particularly mind, ever since his talk with Adam the boys got along a little better, and by now it was routine for Crowley and Warlock to walk across the street after dinner and join Ezra and Adam for tea. 

Well, Crowley and Ezra drank tea. Adam and Warlock mostly pinched biscuits out of the kitchen and played games in the sitting room.

Although, if they were entirely honest, neither boy could understand why their guardians were such fast friends. 

It didn’t really matter, though. With their parents chatting nightly, it became inconvenient for them not to get on, so Warlock continued to make an effort to convince Adam they should be friends, and slowly Adam was starting to seem to agree. 

Since they had started spending time together, things had actually gotten a little bit better. 

They spoke at school now, and they had even managed to make some new friends.

Well, Warlock had made new friends, and Adam had gotten new friends. Adam was still a little hard to approach, but if you could get him to stop thinking about the fire and being bitter, he had all the best ideas. 

There were three new friends that Warlock had made at school. 

The first was Pippin Galadriel Moonchild, although she hit anyone who called her that and insisted that everyone call her Pepper. She was loud, and strong in her opinions, and Warlock liked her a lot. 

Then there was Wensleydale, whom Warlock had already forgotten his first name. He was full of facts and trivia, and liked correcting people when they said something wrong. 

And lastly, there was Brian. He was always messy, always eating something, and always up for any idea anyone had. 

He had been the first one to support the particular idea the children were trying out. 

Which so far hadn't worked, and had landed three of the five falling into the big ditch they were trying to build a bridge over. Warlock had gotten the privilege of being the second one to fall into the cold water, soaking himself through and making him certain that Anthony was not going to be happy when he showed up all muddy and disgusting, not that any of his complaints would really be serious.

The bridge was so far not going to well. All they had were a few old pieces of lumber, some string, and Brian’s half-eaten chocolate bar, which wasn’t very useful, but the boy had offered it up anyways.

Adam was directing, Pepper was trying to tie the boards together, and Warlock had slipped into the ditch while trying to set it up. Brian was eating a different chocolate bar, and Wensleydale was spouting random facts while fretting over the fact that the bridge would probably collapse under any weight, but that wasn’t the point.

Pepper and Adam were the other people who had fallen in the ditch. 

But it wasn’t stopping them from trying again.

“Pepper, try tying it further up that board!” Adam called from where he stood at the edge of the water.

Pepper was in the middle of dumping the water out of her wellies. She was dripping everywhere, and just gave him a stern look.

Adam sighed and walked into the ditch himself, grabbed the string and started wrapping it around the boards.

“Um, Adam? What is the point of this bridge if it won’t be able to hold us up?” Wensleydale asked.

“We can be… making a bridge for squirrels, and other animals that don’t want to get wet!” Adam replied.

“Couldn’t they just go around the ditch?” Wensley asked, frowning. “And a squirrel could climb a tree!"

“Well, we’re helping the animals that can’t go through the trees or around! It’s noble work we’re doing!” Adam insisted, tying a tight knot.

“Exactly, Wensleydale!” Warlock agreed, hoisting another piece of rotting lumber and placing it on top of the others. “It’s noble work for the animals in this park. And when we’re done, we can feed the ducks some corn!”

“Do ducks like corn?” Adam asked.

“Yes, it’s bread that we’re not supposed to feed ducks, corn is fine and actually quite nutritious!” Wensleydale replied.

“Exactly. Now, if we could only get this bridge to work…” Warlock trailed off.

“It doesn’t look like we’re going to get the chance, your dad is here!” Pepper called. “Hello, Mister Fell!”

“He’s not my dad,” Adam said instantly, bristling. “He didn’t even  _ know _ my dad.”

“Just Ezra is fine, Pepper, dear. Either way, dears, your parents would like you to come home. It’s dinner time, and it got dark rather quickly tonight. Adam, dear, Crowley has invited you and I over for dinner, are you up to that? I could order you something to eat at home if you preferred. Why, perhaps you boys would prefer that, to have dinner on your own in the bookshop, but let’s have an agreement that we don’t tell Crowley what your reasoning is for skipping dinner with him, Warlock,” Ezra continued.

Warlock stayed quiet, letting Adam decide on what he would rather do. He thought that a group dinner sounded like a good idea, but he knew that Adam didn’t necessarily like spending time with Ezra.

“I’ll go over for dinner,” Adam decided, “Crowley is a good cook. The leftovers he brought the other day were great." 

“He is, isn’t he?” Ezra said with a smile. “Now, come along, we need to get you home. Brian, whatever you’re currently eating, your parents have finished dinner, so you ought to put it away.”

Brian sheepishly stuffed his half-eaten chocolate bar into his pocket. Ezra smiled at him. 

“Right, well, we shouldn’t dawdle, your parents will be wondering where you are. Warlock, you know Crowley won’t be happy when you track muddy water through your flat,” Ezra warned, although Warlock did notice that he didn’t say anything about the fact that Adam was also dripping. 

“Anthony will be fine,” Warlock said dismissively. “We should drop Wensleydale off first, he lives the closest to the park.”

"You're exactly right Warlock, we'll drop by the Wensleydale's first, then drop off Pepper, and then Brian, and then we'll get to the flower shop for dinner," Ezra agreed, "we shouldn't be more than twenty minutes, now come on."

Warlock followed after the bookshop owner, shot Adam a look when he seemed about ready to protest to being bossed around by Ezra. 

He really wasn't in the mood for the constant tension that festered between those two, he was quite hungry and just wanted to get home to eat. 

Dropping off the others didn't take long, and soon they were stood outside the florist's shop. Ezra was about to follow Warlock inside when he seemed to notice the state of Adam's clothing for the first time. 

"Oh, dear. Tell Anthony we'll be there shortly, but we should get Adam into some dry clothes, first," Ezra told Warlock. 

Warlock nodded and walked inside. He barely made it to the front entrance of the flat before Crowley noticed the ditch water that was a dripping off of him.

"What did you get into, Warlock, I just washed the floors!" He protested. 

"I fell in a ditch." 

"In a ditch?" 

"A ditch." 

Crowley's nose wrinkled up. "You need a shower, young man. Where are Ezra and Adam?"

"Ezra took Adam home to get changed, he said they would be here soon." 

"Did Adam fall in a ditch, too?" Crowley asked. 

"Yeah, me and Adam and Pepper all did," Warlock replied. 

"Perfect. Adam will need a shower, too."

Without explaining what that meant, Crowley rushed off and returned with a plastic bucket and a bath towel. 

"Clothes in the bucket, towel around you, and up to the shower you go. I'll throw your clothes in the wash when we have a load ready," Crowley instructed. 

"Can't I just get undressed in the toilet?" 

"You're dripping muddy water, and I just washed the floors while you were out. No, you cannot," Crowley replied. 

Warlock let out a heavy sigh, but there was no arguing with Crowley. He reluctantly dropped his dripping clothes in the bucket and went upstairs to the shower. 

Crowley picked up the bucket between two fingers, like he thought it might somehow infect him if he touched the smelly, dirty clothes that Warlock had been wearing. "Honestly, kid, your ability to find ways to get dirty never ceases to amaze me," he said as he walked it into the main floor bathroom. 

Warlock snickered. "This is still pretty tame, Anthony! Imagine what I could be getting into!" 

"I tremble at the thought. Now, seriously kid, get in the shower! Our guests will be here any minute and you smell horrible!"

"Part of my charm!" 

“Adam, would you please take a shower before we go over for dinner? You’re covered in mud, and I don’t want you tracking it through our neighbour’s house,” Ezra said gently. 

He could sense that something, probably nothing he had personally done, had irritated Adam with him, and that he had best be a little cautious. Adam was liable to take the whole thing out on him, even if it was nothing he had personally done. 

He was starting to get used to that being his reality. Try as he might, even with Crowley’s advice, he wasn’t getting through to Adam. The boy still wanted very little to do with him, and still plainly resented him. 

He still couldn’t honestly say that he blamed Adam for wanting nothing to do with him. He knew that the upheaval of the boy’s life had not gotten any easier in the last month, but he hoped that soon the outward animosity would wear off as time went on. 

It was very hard to raise a boy who despised you simply for being charged with looking after him. 

Adam shot him a look. “Please, Adam?” Ezra asked. 

The boy huffed, but marched off towards the toilet, so Ezra assumed that he was going to listen. 

That was no small relief. Ezra sat quietly in their sitting room until Adam was finished getting showered and changed. He had a book of poetry he was reading, and it kept him busy until Adam was ready to head over for dinner. 

Adam didn’t make a ton of effort to impress beyond taking a shower, Ezra was fairly certain he was wearing the shirt that had been lying on his floor for the last three days, but he didn’t feel like getting into the argument that pointing that out would lead to.

Instead, he just led Adam out of the shop and across the street to Crowley’s flower shop. The shop itself was closed for the night, all the lights shut out and the curtains drawn, but Ezra walked around the side to the main door to their flat and knocked. 

A few moments later, Crowley opened the door. “Ezra! Adam! You’re here! Warlock is just in the shower, he smelled like ditch water,” he explained, “given I spent the afternoon cleaning the floors, I wasn’t having any of that. Do come in, we can wait for him in the sitting room.” 

Ezra had yet to fully step inside Crowley’s flat. Despite the fact that teatime in the bookshop was a habit, there hadn’t been much of an excuse for Ezra to go over to the flower shop. He had been in the foyer, and thought it impressive that a flat in the back of a shop  _ had _ a foyer, but he hadn’t been any further. 

Now, he followed Crowley out of the foyer and down a hallway. The hall was a little dark, the walls seemed to be stone throughout the house, slate grey and smooth. 

The halls were lined with ferns, growing in every corner that had a spot of sunlight from the odd windows. They were lush and verdant, and Ezra couldn’t particularly say that he was surprised. Crowley was quite a proficient florist, of course he was good with live plants, too.

They walked past what he assumed were the doors to the kitchen and the dinning room, and was escorted into the sitting room. 

The door to that spun in the center to open, and it startled Ezra at first. 

Everything was very sharp, very modern and almost a little impersonal. There were a few art projects that Ezra assumed Warlock had made hung on the walls, and that was really the only homey sense that Ezra could get. 

Everything else was clean, with sharp lines and harsh finishes. The couch was black leather, the far outer wall was entirely windows, allowing the last of the sunlight to light the room. More plants filled this space, in the corners and on shelves. 

What surprised Ezra most of all was the artwork. There was a metal vase in one corner, a sketch of- was that a sketch of the Mona Lisa? on his wall, there had been quite the strange statue of two winged beings wrestling along the hallway. 

There was a coffee table nearby the couch, with a sort of red stone surface, and the spare chairs in the room reminded Ezra more of thrones than of seats, with plush red cushions and ornate gold backings. 

“You have a very nice home,” Ezra said with a smile. 

Crowley just smiled. “It’s okay. So, what have you been up to?” He asked, sprawling out on the couch. “Please, sit down, Warlock will be down soon. Dinner is ready, it’s staying warm in the oven. We can eat whenever Warlock is done getting changed.” 

“Well, I had a few customers, but none of them were really serious about wanting to buy antique books, so they left,” Ezra replied, “what were you two up to all day?” 

He looked over at Adam, but the boy didn’t answer him. 

Thankfully for him, Warlock ran into the room not a few seconds later. “Is dinner ready, Anthony? I’m  _ starving!”  _ He cried. 

“Dinner  _ is _ ready, head to the kitchen and wash up. Ezra, Adam, is there anything I can get for you two? The bathroom is just across the hall if you’re looking for it, I’ll bring you back to the dinning room,” Crowley said quickly, standing himself up and rushing to the door. 

Ezra didn’t get a choice but to follow him. This time, he paid more attention to his surroundings, looked at the art in the hallways. 

Adam rushed ahead, following after Warlock.

There was a statue of a bird, and the same one he had noticed before, the two winged beings wrestling with each other. 

Or, at least, Ezra had  _ thought _ they were wrestling. 

Upon a second inspection, it didn’t look much like wrestling. 

It was far too… intimate. “Crowley?” 

He turned around, yellow-gold eyes bright. Ezra liked when they were in the dark and he could see Crowley’s eyes. He hadn’t seen eyes that colour before, and the “snake eyes” he liked to joke about, caused by a coloboma, made them all the more interesting to look at. “What is it?” He asked. 

“Where did you get this? It’s quite… unique.” 

“Oh, it’s from an old friend,” Crowley said dismissively. “From a long time ago. I thought it was interesting, as one way of putting it. Thankfully, Warlock isn’t old enough to ask about it just yet,” he laughed, “I imagine when he is old enough, I’ll have to put it away and find something else to replace it in the hall.” 

“I suppose you will,” Ezra agreed. 

Crowley led him into the dinning room. The tabletop was made of the same red stone as the coffee table in the living room, the chairs similar to those Ezra had seen in the other room as well. “Sit down, sit down, let me go get dinner out of the oven.”

Ezra took a seat as Crowley stepped out. A few moments passed, and Warlock and Adam walked into the dining room. Warlock was carrying plates and cutlery, he had made Adam carry the glasses, and he set four places at the table. Crowley walked back in, placed a casserole dish on a potholder in the middle of the table. 

“You two aren’t lactose intolerant, are you?” He asked. “That could be awkward and lead to calling in for dinner.”

Ezra peered into the casserole dish. 

It held a lasagna, with the melted cheese on top still bubbling. His stomach growled. “No, we aren’t."

“Good.” 

Ezra’s neighbour cut large pieces, which Ezra was not complaining about, even though during the course of the meal, Crowley barely touched his own portion. Once he had helped himself to two pieces in the time it had taken his host to eat half of his own, Ezra couldn’t help but feel a little embarrassed, but Crowley gestured at the dish and encouraged him to eat as much as he wanted. 

Warlock did not seem surprised by how little his guardian did eat. He kept Adam occupied in some in-depth conversation about dinosaurs during dinner and mostly ignored Crowley and Ezra. 

“You’re a fantastic cook, you know,” Ezra remarked. 

Crowley shrugged his shoulders. “I’m alright. I could barely cook at all before I had Warlock, but ordering takeout every night is more expensive with a growing boy, and not particularly healthy for him, either.” 

Ezra couldn’t help but smile a little at that. “So you learned to cook for him?” 

“Well, I didn’t learn for myself. Never had much of an appetite, me,” Crowley replied, “I could just as easily survive on wine and takeout chinese. Did, for a while.” 

“How terrible! I would grow tired of eating the same thing every day, I must be honest.” 

“You a bit of a foodie, Ezra?” 

“I do enjoy a good meal,” Ezra admitted. 

“Well, I’m glad mine made the list. Now, I’m going to get some wine, can I tempt you to a glass? I have a nice bottle of  _ chateauneuf du pape  _ chilling in the kitchen. Can't say it pairs well with pasta, but since we're done eating now…" 

Ezra couldn't think of a reason to refuse. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay on this chapter, but I am announcing an update schedule with this one! Obviously one chapter a day was not sustainable for a story I'm still in the process of writing, so starting Sunday, May 3rd, I will be updating every Sunday and Wednesday! (Although I'm super forgetful for very early Thursday or Monday morning might happen too) there won't be an update this Wednesday, to give me the week to prepare and get ahead of my update schedule. I hope this suits everyone, I'm looking forward to seeing you next Sunday!


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ezra feels alienated, Crowley contemplates the word friendship.

Ezra had nearly choked when, after inquiring after the vintage of the bottle of wine he and Crowley had shared after dinner while the children did something rather loud but harmless upstairs in Warlock's room, and, having gone home and looked up the bottle, that Crowley had invited him to share a one hundred pound bottle of wine. 

It had been absolutely delightful, but given how difficult it was lately just to pay the lease on the bookshop and keep the house afloat, he could hardly fathom what led his neighbour to crack open a bottle of wine he had payed one hundred pounds for with the neighbour he had really only know for a month. 

Ezra had been hoping that the bookshop would pick up more the longer it was around, and it was, but it hadn't picked up enough just yet. 

But a  _ one hundred pound  _ bottle of wine. And he had spoken of it so casually, he hadn't tried to hide the fact that it was such an expensive vintage, as though it hadn't been a big deal. 

And maybe Ezra wouldn't be stirring over it if he hadn't helped Crowley  _ finish  _ the bottle. He hadn’t just drank one glass, between the two of them, they had finished the bottle. 

And he really didn’t know what to do about that. He was in the position where buying wine from the grocery store was really his only choice. It wasn’t nice, but it would do. 

But apparently  _ not. _ Not compared to what his neighbour was drinking, and handing out without a second thought. 

And Ezra wasn’t really sure what he could even  _ say _ about it. That morning, Crowley had sauntered into the bookshop like nothing had changed, offering to give Adam a ride to school since it was raining. He was already driving Warlock, after all, he might as well drive Adam, too.

Ezra didn’t know what to say. He was getting the feeling that Crowley didn’t even think anything of it, and that was even more embarrassing. 

His neighbour was the sort of person who popped open hundred pound bottles of wine and didn’t say anything about it. 

And he was  _ so far _ out of his league. 

Ezra knew that he was not really financially well-off, but he had assumed that the florist across the road wouldn’t be much different. 

But apparently, he was mistaken. Seriously mistaken. 

And it was a little humiliating to have that slapped in his face by a bottle of wine. He had no clue what to do about it. 

He had a feeling Crowley wasn’t going to say anything about it, and he wasn’t sure how the hell he was supposed to say something about it. 

He knew that Crowley would be showing up for tea after dinner, that was their typical arrangement, and he knew he liked spending time with Crowley, so maybe he could put it behind him and pretend that everything was fine. 

Maybe everything  _ would _ be normal. Maybe he would get over this easily enough. Maybe Crowley would come over, they would have tea, and Ezra would forget about it all. 

And that was what he had been trying to convince himself of all day. Now he was in the middle of cooking dinner, and he was still dealing with the weird, icky feeling in his stomach that he couldn’t swallow down, and Crowley was going to be over in an hour. 

Adam was back home now, without even needing to be asked, Crowley had picked him up from school and driven it home, since the rain was still falling. He was doing his homework in his room, at least, Ezra hoped that was what he was actually doing. He didn’t much feel like going to check to make sure. 

He had to finish cooking dinner, and hopefully get himself under control before Crowley showed up for tea. It was easy. The roast was already in the oven, he was crisping the garlic bread in the toaster oven of all places. What could he say, he was a little frazzled. The salad was cut, tossed and washed. 

He just had to wait for the stove to beep, check the temperature to see if he hadn’t undercooked it again, and call Adam to the kitchen. 

Maybe he should  _ have _ a drink, to settle his stomach. He considered the white wine that was in the cabinet, but the thought of wine just put a sour taste in his mouth.

He didn’t understand why having a bottle of expensive wine shared with him was bothering him so much, but it definitely was. He knew his neighbour probably hadn’t meant any harm, it was very likely that he had just picked a wine out of his kitchen and offered it, but that made it all the more embarrassing. 

Popping open that bottle of  _ Chateauneuf du Pape  _ hadn’t even made Crowley blink an eye. A wine like that in Ezra’s bookshop would only be used for the most special of occasions. Even when he had christened the bookshop, it had merely been with a cheap sparkling wine that hadn’t actually been that good. 

He did  _ like _ fine wine, just like he  _ liked _ fine dining, but the move and sudden expenses of an eleven-year-old boy had put a considerable strain on his finances. 

Ezra took a deep breath. He needed to stop thinking about it, that was the only way he was going to relax. He had a fine dinner cooking, he had an idea to propose to Adam, and everything was going to be fine. 

The stove beeped at him. Ezra pulled open the door before remembering to grab oven mitts so that he didn’t burn the flesh off his hand, although he supposed that would be one way of getting out of an awkward tea with his neighbour. 

The roast was cooked, Ezra cut it into slices and called for Adam. 

To his surprise, Adam didn’t actually look irritated with him at the moment. “Did you have a good day at school?” Ezra asked. 

“I did,” Adam replied, pulling down plates and helping himself to some of dinner. “We’re learning about fossils. Did you know Mary Anning found the very first complete… I forget what kind of dinosaur, it was hard to pronounce, but she found the first complete fossil of it!” 

Ezra smiled. “I didn’t know that!” He replied, although he was quite certain he had read something like that in a history book once before. “And how were Pepper, Wensleydale, Brian and Warlock?” 

Adam sat down at the dinner table and dug into his food. “They’re good,” he replied with his mouth full. 

Ezra sat down as well, murmured a quick grace, although it wasn’t something he would insist on Adam doing, and the boy had arrived seeming to not have a concept of praying before eating, or before bed, and Ezra had not tried to instil the habit in him.”That’s good to hear. I’m sure you children had fun out in the rain.” 

“They wouldn’t let us go outside today, since it was raining, and Crowley picked us up from school and he’s very finicky about muddy boots in his car.”

“Well, he does have a very nice car,” Ezra pointed out. 

The Bentley really should have been his first clue that he and Crowley had  _ vastly _ different situations. His neighbour drove a 1933 Bentley as though it was an ordinary car, clearly, he didn’t have money issues. Ezra didn’t want to know what it cost to fill up the gas tank. 

Ezra rode the bus when he needed to get around.

“I know, it is very nice,” Adam agreed, “but it means we had to stay out of the puddles.”

Ezra nodded, cut himself a bite of the roast. “Adam, I had an idea while you were at school, would you be opposed to hearing it?” He asked. 

He might as well use the boy’s good mood, he had no idea how long it would last. 

Adam looked at him, suspicious. “What sort of an idea?” 

“Well, I can’t help but feel like you’re still very uncomfortable here with me, and I cannot blame you for that in the slightest, my dear boy, rest assured. However, I was thinking, maybe it would be good for you to talk to someone?” He said hesitantly. 

“Talk to someone?” 

“Well, as you do point out, I really don’t know what you’re going through. True, I’ve lost my parents too, but I’m a grown man, not a child. I think it might be good for you to talk to… a professional. But only if you want to, Adam, I won’t force you. I would like you to try it once, I do think it could help, even if you don’t like the sound of it, but I won’t force you. I just want you to become more comfortable here, and I thought this might help.” 

To his surprise, Adam didn’t immediately get mad at him. “I’ll think about it, Ezra.” 

Ezra smiled. “Thank you, Adam.” 

Crowley made a mental note to pick up another couple of bottles of that vintage, he quite liked it, and his neighbour had seemed to, as well. 

It was much nicer to  _ share _ a drink with someone than to drink by himself. Warlock was a little young for wine, and Crowley didn’t have a lot of drinking buddies. When he did, they weren’t the type to sit around and talk over a bottle of red. 

They were more likely to pick a fight in a bar and get them all arrested for the night. Crowley had avoided them since he had gotten Warlock, he didn’t need that sort of trouble. It would be hard to explain to Madame Tracy or Sergeant Shadwell that he needed them to look after Warlock for longer than the evening because his friends had punched the bartender. 

Besides, they weren’t really  _ friends _ anymore. Not since nine years ago. 

Crowley shook his head. He had more pleasant things to think about. He was bringing Warlock over to the bookshop for around eight, so that he and Ezra could have tea, and the boys could work on their homework together. He was quite looking forward to it. 

He didn’t know what it was about, but he liked being around the shop owner. It had been a very long time since Crowley had been close to anyone his own age, for a long time it had just been he and Warlock. He loved the boy to pieces, but it was nice to have someone he could really  _ talk _ to.

It was a welcome change, to be able to laugh and talk with another parent, no matter how inexperienced Ezra was with looking after Adam.

"So, have you thought of what you want to be for Halloween, Warlock? And have you asked Adam if he would like to go out trick-or-treating with you?" Crowley asked. 

"I want to be a spaceman, I told you that, Anthony." 

"I'm assuming you don't mean David Bowie?" Crowley asked with a smirk. 

"Won't that be what  _ you  _ dress up as?" Warlock asked pointedly. 

"I was not David Bowie last year, I told you. I thought I gave you a better classic rock education than that, kid!"

"I never said you were David Bowie last year! I'm well aware of who you dressed up as, the black heels and mustache is not a look anymore but Freddie ever tried to pull off, Anthony. I'm saying  _ this year  _ it could be David Bowie. You  _ are  _ taking us, aren't you? You know half of the neighbourhood waits to see your costume just as much as they wait for the kids costumes!" Warlock said. 

"Well, I was planning on it, but you'll have to wait until Halloween to find out what the costume is this year. Now, finish up your dinner, Ezra is expecting us in ten minutes," Crowley said. 

"Can't be late for nightly tea with the neighbour, you're far too invested in that, Anthony." 

"You can it, kid. I haven't had a friend in  _ years.  _ I'm allowed to like to see him, Warlock," Anthony scolded. 

"I know, I know. I'm done, let me go get my homework and we can go," Warlock assured him. 

Crowley smiled at him as he ran upstairs to grab his schoolbag. 

A few minutes later, they were across the street, knocking on the back door of Ezra's shop. 

Adam pulled open the door and pulled Warlock inside without so much as a word to Crowley. 

"Ezra? We're here!" He called, stepping in the door and wiping his shoes. 

"Oh! Crowley! You're here!" Ezra stepped out of the kitchen, brushing his hands nervously on his ancient jacket. 

"Well, it is eight o'clock. Adam's already ran off with Warlock," Crowley said. 

"Oh, right, of course. He was, er, having difficulties with his maths homework and was hoping that Warlock had figured it out. How have you been? Thank you for driving the boys to school today, by the way. Oh- and back home, too!" Ezra said with a huge, nervous smile. 

Crowley frowned. "Have I don't something wrong? You seem tense," he remarked, "if you're not up to visiting, I can just come back and get Warlock later this evening."

"Oh, no, nothing is wrong, I just- let me go put the kettle on, you take a seat!" 

Something was definitely wrong. Ezra was fidgety, and Crowley didn't know why. Some part of his wondered if he had somehow upset his new… dare he say friend? He certainly felt more than neighbourly towards Ezra, he didn't go over for tea every evening with any other of his neighbours. 

He didn't like to think that he might have done something to upset Ezra. 

He sat in the usual darkest corner of the small sitting area behind the shop, pulled off his dark glasses and slipped them into his coat pocket. He blinked a few times to adjust to the light, but Ezra kept this area dark enough that it didn't hurt his head. 

He could hear Ezra bustling around the kitchen. He waited patiently until he stepped out with two steaming cups of brewing tea. 

"Are you sure you're alright, Ezra? You seem a little… off." 

"Oh, certainly dear boy! I'm tip-top! Everything is tickety-boo!" 

"Tickety-boo?" Crowley repeated, rolling the word over on his tongue. 

"Exactly!" 

Crowley shrugged, blew on his tea and took a sip. "You know, if you weren't in the mood for tea, you could have given me a shout. I have more where the bottle from yesterday came from and not a lot of people to share a glass of wine with," he suggested, "I have a nice  _ Amarone  _ at home I've been meaning to try, and eleven-year-old boys are not the ideal drinking partners." 

"Crowley, that was a  _ one hundred pound  _ bottle of wine!" Ezra exclaimed. 

"Oh, you looked it up? I thought you liked it. It's one of my favourites," Crowley said dismissively. "Although I'm told their  _ grenaches _ are lovely." He continued, sipping his tea, deciding it was well-steeped and pulling out the tea bag.

"One hundred pounds! Crowley, I buy wine from the  _ grocery store!"  _ Ezra cried. 

"Been known to try those too, there are some real treasures to be found where one doesn't expect. Among all the terrible bottles not fit to pour down the drain. Wait- is that what has you so flustered? The wine?" Crowley asked, eyes going wide. 

Ezra didn't have to answer. 

"Ezra, I opened the bottle because it was in my refrigerator and I thought it would be nicer to share it with you than drink it by myself while watching reruns of  _ Golden Girls. _ I'll gladly come here and drink your tea or your grocery store wine as well, don't worry," Crowley said. 

"I just- I could never afford anything like that!" 

"I wouldn't expect you to, Ezra. I didn't share it because I figured you would owe me anything, just tea is nice, I promise. I have some money left from an earlier job when I was younger, and a taste for fine wine. I didn't mean to… well, I'm not really sure what I've done, but I promise there's no need to feel badly about it. It was nice to have someone to share it with. Drinking all by yourself for nine years gets depressing, and the people who watch Warlock when I'm away and not wine drinkers." 

"I just- you really put me on the spot, Crowley! How am I supposed to feel, having drank half my neighbour's hundred pound bottle of wine!" Ezra cried. 

"Well, how about you change the wording a little bit. You didn't drink half your neighbour's bottle of wine, you drank half of a  _ friend's _ bottle of wine." 

"Friend?" 

Crowley felt hurt, at least momentarily. "Well, as much as it's convenient to have a friend for Warlock right across the street, I had hoped we were more than just the parents of those two friends," he said simply. 

"Oh! Of course! I had just- I'm feeling rather frazzled, and I'm afraid the wine thing still has me a little…"

"It's alright. Just remind me that if we happen to see each other on a notable event, I should let you pick the champagne. I  _ think  _ I have a couple of bottles stocked away that could  _ really  _ make you choke."

"I haven't had real champagne in years," Ezra said, sounding wistful. 

"Eh, then maybe we can meet somewhere in the middle of that. I am fond of champagne, me." 

"I just… I still feel… odd. I haven't got anything like that to offer your while you're here," Ezra began, but Crowley cut him off. 

"Sure you do. You make a mean cup of tea, and good company. If we're feeling up to it later, we can break out the grocery store wine. After all, the point is to drink with friends, not compare the labels. And if it makes you feel any better, I can keep the price down on the next bottle I offer to share with you," Crowley offered, cracking a grin. "As much as I would love to rock your world with another fine bottle, I suppose I can see why that might bother you. But I promise you, my goal wasn't to embarrass you or anything like that. Just to share a drink with a friend." 

"I appreciate it. It was an excellent bottle, I promise, it's just-" 

"Say no more, it's all understood," Crowley promised. He held his teacup out towards Ezra. "To drinks with friends?" 

Ezra smiled, clinked their teacups. "To drinks with friends."


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It’s time for Halloween. Crowley keeps getting phone calls, Ezra learns he did not put enough effort into his costume.

"Warlock, you had better get your costume on, everyone else is ready to go!” Crowley shouted up the stairs. “And that includes me, and do you have any idea how long it took to do this makeup? There’s no way dressing up as an astronaut is harder than this makeup!” 

Crowley heard some sort of nasty quip get yelled down the stairs, but they didn’t particularly care what it was. 

Pepper, Wensleydale, Brian and Adam were already gathered in the foyer with Ezra. Crowley had said that they really did always offer to bring the kids out on Halloween himself, but Ezra had insisted on coming along. 

It wasn’t like Crowley had honestly protested that much, they liked Ezra’s company. If Ezra wanted to accompany them on the long night of bringing the children from door to door to demand candy from strangers, they weren’t going to stop him. It would be nice to have someone to talk to other than the loud, sugar-filled children. 

They loved taking the kids out for Halloween, they wouldn’t offer to do it otherwise, and they did love a good reason to get dressed up in costume. Of all holidays, Halloween was definitely their favourite. 

“Warlock! The whole gang is waiting on you, what’s wrong?” Crowley called, mildly concerned when a few minutes had passed and he didn’t hear from the boy. “Did you need a hand?” 

“No, I’m done!” Warlock chirped and ran down the stairs. 

He had a plastic bowl over his head, which now that Crowley looked at it, had clearly been a squeeze to get on. “Am I going to have to cut that off at the end of the night?” They asked, raising one heavily painted-over eyebrow. 

“Probably!” 

“I hope you realize that means you can’t eat any sweets while we’re out, unless you can figure out how to get that out of the way of your mouth. Honestly, Warlock, that is such a safety hazard.” 

Warlock looked at them funny. “I poked some holes in the bowl near my mouth, I can breathe just fine, Anthony. Promise. You look fun, I see you didn’t dress up as David Bowie.”

Crowley smirked. “Maybe next year, if you still want to go out trick-or-treating with your lame parent,” they replied, “but I already had all the makeup for this, not to mention it was  _ not _ easy to find shoes like these, at least one that weren’t clearly stripper heels. Shame to let them go to waste.” 

“Ezra’s barely gonna recognize you, Anthony.” 

“Well, that is often the point of a costume, Warlock,” Crowley reminded the boy as they walked towards the foyer. “You have your pillowcase? And you’re  _ sure _ you want to walk around all evening with that bowl over your head? I’m sure I could find my old motorcycle helmet in the garage for you if you gave me a minute.”

“I’m fine, I promise,” Warlock waved a hand as he walked into the foyer, Crowley shortly behind him.

“Warlock! Your costume is fantastic!” Ezra cried, “and Crowley! My dear boy, I barely recognized you!” 

Ezra was dressed as an angel, with a halo headband on his head and little feathery wings on his back.

“Anthony’s not a boy right now, Ezra.” 

Crowley shot Warlock a look that only parents and teachers could give. “What have I told you about telling people that  _ for _ me, Warlock?” They asked in a severe tone, and for once, Warlock seemed to take them seriously. 

“Sorry Anthony,” he said, looking embarrassed from within his plastic bowl. 

Crowley shook his head with a smile. “Just go on outside, I’ll get a picture of you all and then we can head out.” 

They could see that Ezra had some questions, but he motioned for him to follow the kids. “We have at least two hours to talk while these guys trick-or-treat, let’s get them going before they go crazy,” they said quickly. 

“You could simply tell me right now so I can correct myself, Crowley,” Ezra replied, “we don’t need to make a big deal out of it, you clearly don’t want to.” 

“Fine. Not a boy, not a girl either, at the moment,” Crowley said simply, “Warlock was right, but he really does need to learn to let me tell people that myself,” he added, just a little cross with the boy. 

This was only the fifth time he had to remind Warlock of that. Sure, it was nice to not have had to officially ‘come out’ in nine years, they were a grown adult and it got old, at some point it was nice to just give up and expect people to accept whatever was was currently going on, but constantly having their son tell everyone didn’t really save them any effort.

Thankfully, Ezra seemed content to let it rest at that. He had one simple question to ask on the matter, which was what their current pronouns were. Crowley answered without any more fuss, and directed them outside 

"Well, Crowley, I must ask, who  _ are _ you dressed as?” Ezra asked as he stepped out the door. 

Warlock giggled. “Crowley always dresses up like a rock star from the eighties,” he explained, “last year they were Freddie Mercury. And not just Freddie Mercury, they dressed up in drag and carried a vacuum around all night, like in that music video. This year, it’s KISS,” he finished, “the Demon, to be precise. Kinda funny that you’re dressed as an angel, actually.”

“What are you implying, Warlock?” Crowley asked, shooting the boy a look. “But, he’s right, it’s basically a tradition by now. I suspect  _ I’ll _ be dressing up for Halloween long after the kids have stopped,” they agreed, “anyways, Warlock, you know the drill, group together for a photo, and then we can get going.”

They made a bit of an odd group. Warlock was a spaceman, Pepper was a whale, Wensleydale was a witch, Adam was the Grim Reaper, and Brian was a pirate. Crowley tugged their phone out of a pocket that was significantly too small for their phone, snapped a couple of pictures. “Alright, to the Sergeant and Madame Tracy’s first, they’ll want a good look at you!” They called over to the children. 

Ezra cleared his throat. “You weren’t… nervous to tell me, were you, dear?” he asked, “I do hope I haven’t given you cause to be nervous.” 

“Nah, just got tired of saying it when I was young. Nothing personal to you, but the whole coming-out-of-the-closet gimmick gets old when you’re out of high school.” 

“That it does.” 

Crowley caught themselves before they asked the question that jumped to the tip of their tongue. Ezra would clarify that if he wanted to.

“You will tell me, right? If I misgender you again?” 

“‘Course, angel,” Crowley replied. 

“Angel?” 

“Well, you are dressed as one,” Crowley pointed out, motioning to his fluffy white wings. “Come on, we’d better catch up with the kids, they can and will disappear on us if they’re given half a chance, I should know.”

They walked towards the children. “That’s quite the wig you’ve got yourself there, Crowley.” 

“Ha! Wig? This is my own hair, I did it with really shitty spray-on hair dye, same as I used last year for Freddie. I’m surprised you can’t see the red through the black, Ezra. This stuff rubs off every time you touch it.” 

“You got your actual hair to stand up like that?” Ezra asked, sounding thoroughly impressed. 

“I might have only been a kid in the eighties, but I know how to recreate some of the hairstyles, Ezra, they really aren’t that hard if you have hairspray, and comb, and a lot of time,” Crowley replied, “which, besides time, are things I keep in large quantities.” 

Ezra laughed. “Well, you did a good job of it. I’m not convinced that I’ve met Sergeant Shadwell,” he remarked as they walked up to the door. 

“You would know if you had. He’s always going off about witches. He’s going to  _ riot _ over Wensleydale’s costume, I’m so proud of that little shit. He  _ must _ have known what he was doing,” Crowley snickered, as the sergeant stepped out of the house to hand out sweets. 

“What are yee dressed as, child?” He demanded, staring at Wensleydale in horror. 

“It’s just a costume, Shadwell,” Crowley called from where he was standing. 

“And who are you supposed to be, Crowley?” Shadwell asked, raising an eyebrow. “Besides someone a lot taller than yee normally are! Did yee have a growth spurt? As if yee weren’t tall enough in the first place!”

“These are  _ clearly _ platform shoes, Shadwell, I didn’t grow overnight. And they’re not even as tall as they could be, because I needed to be able to walk in them all night.”

Madame Tracy swatted his shoulder. “You know exactly who they are, you’re not that out of touch. And you know this boy is only  _ dressed _ as a witch, now hand them the sweets! Warlock, it’s excellent to see you, your costume is lovely. And the rest of you, pleased to meet you, I’m Madame Tracy, and this is Mister Shadwell,” she continued, shaking each of the children’s hands. 

“ _ Sergeant _ Shadwell. Of the Witchfinder Army.” 

Tracy rolled her eyes and pulled the bowl of sweets out of Shadwell’s hands before placing a handful in each of the children’s bags. 

Ezra couldn’t decide if Crowley looked impressive in their costume, or a little ridiculous. He supposed that was part of the charm of Halloween, the ridiculous  _ was _ impressive on that evening. 

Still, his friend walking out with teased up black hair, elaborate white and black face paint and wearing all studded leather had been a bit of a shocker. 

Never mind the fact that the platform shoes had made it so that even despite the slouching that kept Crowley down at Ezra’s height, they were now a considerable couple of inches taller. 

“I do wish you would have told me that you made such a fuss about your costume, I might have tried a little harder with mine,” Ezra muttered as they followed the kids away from Sergeant Shadwell and Madame Tracy’s door. 

“Nonsense, I think you look cute, angel. Besides, now you know for next year. You can help me decide between Ozzy or David Bowie for next year.” 

“I’m afraid I’m not an avid bebop listener, Crowley. I prefer classical music and have almost no idea who you’re talking about," Ezra replied. 

Crowley stared at him incredulously. “Bebop? I- never mind. Well, first off, you know who KISS is, right?” 

“I’ve heard of them.” 

“ _ I Was Made For Lovin’ You _ ?  _ Rock and Roll All Nite _ ?”

Clearly, Ezra didn’t show any more recognition than he had to the band name, because Crowley just shook his head and moved on.

“Well, you’ve heard of them, that will do. And I’m sure you’ve heard Bowie, he was big in the seventies but he did stick around a while. Y’know,  _ Space Oddity _ ? Major Tom? He died a couple of years ago?”

“It’s not ringing any bells.” 

“Tough crowd,” Crowley laughed. 

“Well, then I’m sure you’ll be even more disappointed to learn that I have absolutely no idea what music video Warlock was referring to earlier. Obviously, I know who Freddie Mercury is, but I can’t say I’ve seen a music video of him in drag with a vacuum,” Ezra admitted. 

“I’ll show you when we get home. It’s a fun video,” Crowley replied, “really weird, but once you’ve seen it, you won’t forget it.”

Ezra smiled. “I’m sure I won’t, Crowley. You’ll have to show me a bebop video of where your costume is from, too.”

“For the record, KISS is not bebop. Nor is Queen, or any of the other bands I’ve mentioned. If you lined up  _ everyone in the world _ and asked them to describe those bands, no one would say bebop. Bebop is ragtime music and jazz,” Crowley protested. 

Crowley’s phone started ringing. Ezra watched them pull it out of their pocket, hit decline after barely glancing at the number, and stuff it back in the tight pocket of their leather pants. “Well, we’re getting left behind, we’d better catch up to the kids.” 

Ezra wondered if he should ask what the phone call was about, but was soon distracted chasing five eleven-year-olds around the neighbourhood, and Crowley couldn't run very well in the shoes they were wearing, so Ezra had to do a lot of the catching. 

Not that he minded having to chase the kids around, it was turning out to be quite the fun night, with Crowley for company and the children were up to all sorts of things, although the funniest by far was Warlock trying to get a candy bar up inside of the bowl he had stuck over his head to eat. 

Crowley just shook their head and rolled their eyes at that, muttering to themselves about how they had  _ told _ Warlock that bowl was a bad idea, and they weren’t looking forward to trying to figure out how to cut it off of him. 

Warlock stuck his tongue out at that, saying that he had gotten the bowl over his head, and he could get it off if he tried. 

Ezra was inclined to agree with Crowley. That bowl didn’t look like it was going anywhere soon. 

Ezra was startled out of his thoughts by Crowley’s phone ringing again. Ezra didn’t recognize the song that blared from the speaker, but he did know that there was no way it  _ wasn’t _ Crowley’s phone. 

Again, Crowley tugged it free of their pocket just to decline the call. 

“Who was that?” 

“No one,” Crowley replied, all too quickly to be convincing. They stuffed the phone back into their pocket, where it clearly didn’t really fit. “Let’s just catch up to the kids, they’ve gotten ahead of us again.” 

And that was the end of that conversation. 

Ezra heard Crowley’s phone ring at least three more times while they were out. Each time, Crowley pulled it out, glanced at the number, hit decline and stuffed it back into the pocket it had come out of. 

Ezra suspected all the calls came from the same number, although he couldn’t fathom who would be calling a florist five times on Halloween Night. Surely there was nothing that couldn’t wait until morning. 

Ezra was still wondering who it could have been when Crowley escorted everyone back to the flower shop. Pepper, Brian and Wensleydale’s parents were waiting for them there, and the kids got to saying their goodbyes. 

Crowley glanced over at Ezra. “Well, I need to get all of this makeup off before I stain everything in my house, but will you stick around for a drink?” He offered. “Adam and Warlock won’t be asleep for ages, and if Adam  _ does _ fall asleep while you’re here, I don’t mind if he stays the night.” 

Ezra hesitated. 

“If you would be more comfortable, we could go over to yours for the drink,” Crowley said quickly. “I just  _ did _ tell you I was going to school you in classic rock, and that’s easier to do from here. You don’t seem to have any Wi-Fi, at least according to Warlock.” 

“No, I’m afraid we don’t. I would love to stay for a drink.” 

“Excellent! Come on in, get yourself settled in the living room, I need ten minutes to get this off, and I’ll be right there. Incidentally, angel, how do you feel about horror movies? I have quite the collection.” 

Crowley only seemed mildly disappointed to learn that Ezra was  _ not _ a fan of horror movies. It did, as they had predicted, take them about ten minutes to wipe off all the white and black face paint in the bathroom, and wash out the black spray-in dye. Without all of that, and the three-inch tall platform shoes, Crowley was a much more familiar sight, even when their idea of putting on more comfortable clothes basically involved throwing their typical blazer over the leather they were wearing. 

“You do something like that  _ every year?” _ Ezra asked, as Crowley stepped into the living room, towel in hands, red hair still dripping from where they had seemed to have washed it in the sink, as Ezra hadn’t heard the shower run. 

“Eh, sometimes the makeup’s easier, but yeah, I do,” Crowley confirmed, “Warlock, did you get that bowl off your head?” They called up the stairs. 

“Yes I did!” Warlock shouted in return. 

“Well, consider me impressed. So, no horror movies, fair enough. Warlock isn’t much of a fan of them either, at least, not yet. I’ll go grab my laptop and some drinks. Do you have a preference? White, red, rosé, I have things other than wine here too, if scotch interests you more…”

“Just bring something that you like,” Ezra said, after a brief bit of hesitation. 

Crowley smirked. “Can do, angel.” 

“And nothing-” 

“Nothing worth more than the average meal, I know!” Crowley replied as they walked towards the kitchen. “I told you, I have bottles that aren’t worth that much, and they’re plenty good.”

Ezra smiled to himself. He had to admit, it was nice that his new friend really was listening to his concerns. 

He was settled down on Crowley’s black leather couch. The sitting room was a lot different now that it was dark and no light came through the windowed wall. Ezra imagined it was a lot easier on Crowley’s eyes this way, he had noticed that they hadn’t been wearing their sunglasses at all this evening. 

It was likely why they had mentioned preferring the winter months than the summer, even despite the cold. In the winter, the bright sun was bright, because of the snow, but it got dark much faster. 

Crowley emerged from the hall with two glasses of white wine in one hand, and their laptop in the other. They flopped down on the couch next to Ezra and handed him the glass of wine. 

Ezra took it, swirled it around in the glass and gave it a sniff before he sipped it. “This is very nice,” he said, smiling. “Where did you get this one?” 

“The right grocery store does have nice wine, Ezra. Now, where should we start with your musical education?”

As they spoke, their phone rang again. 

This time, Ezra got a glimpse of the call display before Crowley actually answered it. “Just a second, Ezra.”

It simply read, ‘Bee.’

Crowley stepped into the hall, but Ezra could still hear them. 

“I told you. Stop calling this number. I don’t work for you anymore.”


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Adam goes to therapy for the first time, Crowley gets more phone calls

The phone calls did not stop when Crowley told them to. Ezra still heard him dismiss phone calls regularly, the ring tone he now knew was _“Heaven’s on Fire”_ still playing out of Crowley’s pockets just for him to pick up the phone and hang up. 

Ezra had tried multiple times to ask him outright who was calling, he never answered. He always found a way to change the subject, to talk about something else. 

But now wasn’t the time to be worrying about Crowley. His friend was going to have to wait, Ezra had his own concerns right about now. 

Like the fact that he was standing on in the subway with Adam, bringing him to meet with a therapist. Adam had, reluctantly, agreed to see her, just once, and then decide whether he wanted to go again. 

True to his word, Ezra had not coerced or forced the boy to go, but he had suggested that Adam couldn’t really say that it wouldn’t help when he had never been. 

True, Ezra had not been to a bereavement counsellor before, either, but he had convinced Adam to give it a try, and that was all that mattered. 

Adam wasn’t looking thrilled with his decision now that they were on the bus over. 

“Do I have to do this?” He asked, plainly complaining. 

“Well, Adam, I can’t cancel the appointment now without still having to pay the counsellor for it, so I would appreciate it if you would give it a try,” Ezra replied. 

Adam huffed, but didn’t complain again. 

“Besides, it’s a good chance for Dog to get out and explore, isn’t it? He’s never been on a bus before, that we know,” Ezra continued. 

Adam didn’t look convinced by that, either. He reached down and scratched between Dog’s ears. 

“Oh, our bus is here, Adam. Come along, we don’t want to fail to catch it!” 

“Miss the bus, Ezra. The term is miss the bus,” Adam rolled his eyes. “Now let’s just go and get this over with.” 

Ezra figured that was as enthusiastic as Adam was going to get, so he would take it. He walked to the bus with Adam behind him, 

“It’s not a long trip, and that’s a good thing, since we’re running a little bit late. Come on, Adam, no time to dither,” Ezra ushered him onto the bus. 

“That dog had better not have fleas,” someone already on the bus hissed. 

“Dog doesn’t have any fleas!” Adam snapped back at him. 

Ezra quickly pulled Adam away from the man and pushed him into a seat. “Don’t bother yourself with him, Adam. If he wants to be nasty, let him.”

Adam huffed, crossed his arms over his chest. Ezra only sighed. 

"This will all be over soon, Adam, and if you hate it as much as you think you will, then you never have to do it again. We'll think of something else. But Adam, I need to know that you know that I'm trying to help you. You can resent me for it if you want to, I _know_ you resent me, you can resent me for this too, if you want, but you know that I'm trying to help you, don't you, Adam? I know you've been through something terrible that I can't begin to understand, but all I want is for you to have the best life possible now."

Adam was silent for a moment. "I know, Ezra. I know you're trying to help. I just don't know if you can."

Ezra smiled, just slightly. "As long as you know, dear boy,” he murmured. 

Adam didn’t say anything else on the subject, he reached down and pet Dog’s head. “What was the counsellor’s name?” He asked. 

“Missus Ashtoreth,” Ezra replied, “she didn’t tell me her first name over the phone, but she sounded nice. She was eager to meet you, although I didn’t tell her much about you. She said she would prefer to hear it from you, and I didn’t want to overstep any boundaries.” 

Adam nodded. “And where will you be while I’m there?” He asked. 

“Well, there’s always something to do in London. This is such a busy city,” Ezra replied, “I’m not really sure what is in the area, but I suppose I’ll just have to find out. When you’re done, you and I can go for lunch, if you want.” 

“That doesn’t sound like a bad idea,” Adam conceded. 

Ezra smiled again. “I’m glad to hear that.” 

It was reassuring to have Adam agree with him, even just on minor things. 

Ezra looked up, glanced out the windows. “We’re here, Adam. Come on, let’s get off the bus. We have a bit of a walk, but I don’t think we’re going to be late.” 

Adam nodded, and Dog barked when Ezra said walk. The man who had accused him of having fleas glared at the dog. 

Ezra ignored him, and led Adam and Dog off the bus. “Just this way, Adam,” he said gently, guiding the boy down the pavement and to a small building. 

He pulled the door open, a pleasant bell rang as he and Adam stepped in. 

There was a young man behind the desk who looked up as they walked in. “Who are you here to see?” He asked, flipping open a book. 

“Missus Ashtoreth,” Ezra replied. 

“Adam Young?” The man asked, looking over at Adam. 

The boy nodded. “Ezra said it was okay if I brought Dog?” 

The man nodded, smiling a little. “Of course it is, this is a pet-friendly office and Missus Ashtoreth does like dogs. Go have a seat, she’ll be right with you.” 

“Well, Adam, I had best get going.”

“You’re going to need to sign a release form, and we need proof of guardianship, as you are simply Adam’s legal guardian and not one of his parents,” the man told him. “Did you bring proof? I’m afraid we can’t treat him if you didn’t.”

“Oh, I did. I have a letter from a judge,” Ezra replied, handing it over to the young man. 

He read over it and nodded. “May we take a copy of this?” 

“Of course.” 

After signing a few forms, Ezra decided he would stick around to at least meet with this Missus Ashtoreth. 

It didn’t take long for a rather stern looking woman, with hair worn in severe curls, to step out of the office. 

She didn’t look nearly as stern when she smiled down at Adam. “You must be Adam,” she said, voice soft and gentle. “My name is Lilith Ashtoreth, you can call me Lilith, or whatever makes you most comfortable.” 

She held out her hand, she wore a shining but plain wedding ring. Adam shook it. 

“And is this your dog?” She asked, looking down at Dog. 

“Yes, his name is Dog, and he’s friendly,” Adam confirmed. 

Lilith Ashtoreth held her hand out to Dog, who licked it. She smiled.

Then, she turned to Ezra. “And you are his guardian?” 

“Indeed. Ezra Fell.” 

She shook his hand as well, and turned back to Adam. “Did you want Ezra to stay with you? Normally I recommend that the first session be done solo, I imagine there are things you may tell me that you don’t want your guardians to hear, and that is your right. You both understand that despite your legal guardianship, Ezra, I am to grant Adam confidentiality unless subpoenaed by a court of law, or I deem that he or someone else is in danger?” 

“I do. Anything that Adam wants me to know, he can tell me himself.” 

“And I didn’t want Ezra there for the first session.” 

Lilith Ashtoreth nodded, adjusted her glasses. “Very well. There are some forms for you to sign, Adam, and they _are_ legally binding, as they have been signed by Ezra, as well. We can step into my office to fill them out, if you have any questions, please stop me and ask.” 

Adam nodded. Lilith gestured for him to follow her back behind the closed doors, and the boy followed. 

They closed the door behind them. 

Ezra had meant to leave during the session, but he wound up realizing that he really did not recognize anything in the area, and simply opted to find himself a coffee, order a since coffee, and return to the office to await Adam, idly reading the magazines that Missus Ashtoreth’s office provided. There was nothing particularly interesting, but he didn’t mind. An hour and a half seemed like a long time, but Ezra was really quite good at allowing time to pass him by. When the office door opened and Adam and Missus Ashtoreth stepped back out, Adam carrying a great many papers with him. 

Ezra looked up at him. “How was it, Adam?” 

The boy almost looked embarrassed. 

“Adam, whatever your decision, I will respect it.” 

“Would you make another appointment for next week?” Adam asked quietly. 

Ezra smiled. “Of course, dear.”

“Stop calling, Bee. I mean it. You already know everything you need to know,” Crowley hissed into the phone. 

“That’s not what I’m calling about, Crowley.” 

Crowley huffed and rolled his eyes. “What the hell else could you possibly be calling me about?” He demanded. 

“There’s a job.” 

“I don’t work with you anymore, Bee.” 

“You’re on our payroll,” the voice on the phone reminded him. “You get a check once a month, I’m sure that keeps you comfortable a lot better than your flower shop.” 

“And we both know _why_ I get that check, and it has nothing to do with me being involved in jobs. Piss off, Bee. I don’t live that life anymore. I’ve got a son to look after.”

“And why is that?” 

Crowley growled and hung up the phone. 

“Anthony? Who was that?” Warlock asked. 

Crowley hadn’t realized the boy was behind him, and wound up dropping his phone on the ground, surprised. “How much of that did you hear, Warlock?” He asked, whirling around to face the boy. 

Warlock had his large, fluffy, irritable cat bundled up in his arms. “Not a lot. You’ve just been really angry with your phone lately, Anthony. Not to mention there was that weird guy in our garage this summer…” 

“It’s nothing,” Crowley replied, waving a hand dismissively. “We need to go out shopping, we’re running low on supplies for Pretzel. Do we need anything for Baron?” 

Warlock nodded his head, scratched the top of Baron’s head. “We need cat litter again.” 

Crowley nodded. “Well, Adam and Ezra are out, so I can’t send you over there, and Madame Tracy is ‘drawing aside the veil’ today, so you have to come with me.” 

Warlock nodded. “Are we going right now?” 

“I was thinking we could,” Crowley replied, bending down to pick up his phone, but throwing it onto the counter. He didn’t plan on bringing it with him. “We could grab lunch while we’re out, too. What do you feel like today?” 

Warlock took a moment to think about it. “Crêpes,” he decided. 

Crowley nodded. “Crêpes it is!” He agreed, grabbing the keys to the Bentley. 

“Are you not going to bring your phone?” Warlock asked, raising his eyebrow. 

“Nah,” he replied. 

“Anthony, what if we need to call someone for help? Like if we get in a crash or need an ambulance? Or the police?” Warlock asked pointedly. 

“You’d better knock on wood, kid, if we get into a crash I’m going to blame you,” Crowley warned, grabbing his phone off the counter and shoving it in his pocket just as it began to ring again. 

He ignored it. “Well, there you have it, I have my phone now, Go get in the car.” 

Crowley was expecting someone in his garage this time, and was relieved when he walked out and discovered that mercifully, it was empty besides himself and Warlock. 

He let out a soft sigh of relief, and climbed into the car, Warlock in the back. 

To get good supplies for Pretzel, he had to go a little out of his way, but the generic pet stores were harder to find specific supplies in, and Pretzel was a picky snake with a habit of acting up when she was giving something unsatisfactory to her. 

And there was a nice place for crêpes nearby the store he liked to use to get supplies. It all worked out pretty well. 

He pulled up in front of the pet shop first, walked in and grabbed the supplies he needed for his finicky ball python, and some cat litter for Baron. 

Then he and Warlock drove off towards the little crêpe restaurant. It wasn’t much further than the pet store. He parked his car with a lot of difficulty, London’s parking laws were a bloody menace, and walked them into the restaurant. 

Crowley wasn’t particularly hungry, but this place was very nice, and Warlock really did like their crêpes. They were quickly escorted to a seat, and Warlock ordered his favourite while Crowley debated on actually making an order. Eventually, he did decide on a small order of chocolate crêpes. 

“So, the holidays are approaching quickly,” Crowley mentioned to Warlock. “And you still haven’t told me anything you want, or picked a day for us to go get gifts for your friends.” 

“I’m making gifts for my friends,” Warlock replied simply, and Crowley supposed that was that. 

“Alright, well, I still don’t know what you want for Christmas, do I?” He persisted. “Have you thought about it? You know how I feel about last-minute Christmas shopping. Not only is it crowded and annoying, but it's a migraine _city_ with all the flashing lights.” 

Warlock shrugged. “I’ll think about it and get back to you, Anthony. What are we doing for Christmas, anyways?” 

“Same as usual, unless you had something in mind. You know that gran doesn’t want to see me, she’ll send you something for Christmas again, and I haven’t really got anywhere else for us to go, so we’ll be at home watching Christmas movies again, I imagine,” Crowley replied, “we’ll go through the house sometime soon, get rid of things we don’t need and donate them before Christmas, like always.” 

Warlock nodded. “Sounds good to me.” 

“Were your friends going to do something?” Crowley asked, sipping his water. 

“I think we were talking about meeting up at some point over the break to exchange gifts. I’m sure we’ll see each other a few times over the holiday break.” 

“Of course,” Crowley agreed, as their meals were set down in front of them. 

His phone was buzzing in his pocket again, and the song started playing. 

He grit his teeth, pulled the phone out of his pocket and hung up the call. 

“Anthony? Who keeps calling you?” Warlock asked, frowning as he cut a bite of his crêpes. 

“It’s no one, it’s nothing important. Just an old friend.” 

“Like the old friend who showed up in our garage?” Warlock asked, looking even more concerned. 

“Well, a little, yes,” Crowley agreed, biting his lip. “There’s nothing to worry about, Warlock, they’re just old friends of mine that I don’t want to hear from, and won’t stop calling. If it gets any worse, I’ll change my number.” 

“Shouldn’t you block their numbers?” Warlock asked. “Anthony, does this have to do with the gun in your nightstand?" 

Crowley's fork clattered onto his plate. He stared, open-mouthed, at the boy. "That drawer is locked. I _wear_ the only key." 

He reached for the key he wore around his neck, found that it was still there, on the chain. 

"You left it open. I didn't mess around with it, Anthony, I just saw it," Warlock assured him. "Anthony, this is _scaring_ me. Are we in some kind of trouble?" 

"No, we're not in trouble, Warlock, it's something old from a long time ago, I should have gotten rid of it ages ago but I didn't." 

"Why are the numbers all filed off?" 

Crowley was lucky he hadn't picked up his fork again. "Didn't mess around with it?" 

"I didn't know it was real!" 

"Look, Warlock, it's nothing and we shouldn't be talking about it… here. There's nothing to worry about, we're totally safe. I'll get rid of it when we get home if it makes you feel safer." 

Warlock didn't look convinced, and Crowley wasn't sure how to convince him. 

But he didn't get the chance. 

"Well, fancy running into you all the way out here!" 

Crowley whirled around to see Ezra and Adam standing beside their table. 

"Ezra! Adam! Good to see you! We're just out for pet supplies, really. Can't trust just anybody with Pretzel," Crowley replied, glad for the change of topic. "She's a finicky little priss, that one," he added, with a fond smile. "Care to join us? I'm sure the waiter could take your order here. Warlock, would that be alright with you?" 

Warlock looked reluctant to let the subject drop, but he nodded. 

Adam and Ezra pulled up seats, Ezra went to inform the waiter of their change in seats. 

"What were you two doing all the way out here?" Crowley asked Adam. 

"Ezra had an appointment out here, I'm along for the ride," Adam replied. 

Crowley nodded. "I see. Well, you've stumbled into Warlock's favourite place for crêpes." 

"It looks like a fun place," Adam agreed, looking around. 

Warlock nodded. Ezra walked back over to the table and took a seat. 

"I hope your appointment was nothing serious," Crowley mentioned. 

Ezra looked confused for a second, then smiled and nodded. "Oh, nothing serious at all. Just a little far out of the way." 

Crowley was about to continue when his phone started ringing again. Almost instinctively, he did answer it. 

Held it up to his ear. 

"If you don't start answering your phone and listening up, we _will_ send someone in person again." 

Crowley glanced at the people at the table. "Now's not a good time, I'm in the middle of something." 

"Tonight. Seven o'clock. Last chance or someone shows up, just like you don't want us to."

"No. We're done, like I told you. Stay away from Warlock and I."

He hung up the phone and smiled at the table. 


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ezra receives some child-rearing advice, and an unwelcome visitor shows up at Crowley's.

There had been no unplanned visits, and it had been around a month. Crowley knew he should either be worried sick, or relaxing a little since clearly no one was coming.   
Warlock was mostly convinced that everything was okay again, Crowley had blocked the number that kept calling him, and had pretended he had gotten rid of the firearm in his drawer.   
Realistically, he had just moved it somewhere that Warlock wouldn’t find it. His son may have felt better without the gun in the house, but Crowley was well aware that a weapon of that kind was a necessary evil for anywhere he was going to be living.   
It wasn't safe to be defenseless. Not for him.   
Not for either of them.  
"Warlock? Are you going over for tea?" Crowley called up the stairs.   
"I'll be right over!"   
"Careful while crossing the street!" Crowley replied, and stepped out the door.   
He rushed across the street and knocked on Ezra's door before letting himself in. "Warlock will be right over," he said to Adam, who was waiting by the door.   
"Ezra! Crowley's here!" Adam shouted.   
Mere moments after, Ezra rushed out of the kitchen and beckoned Crowley to come with him.   
"I've got some very interesting tea," he began, motioning to the kettle that was already boiling. "Got sent along from one of my siblings with Adam's gift."  
"You have siblings?"   
"Yes, three. They all live in America, we don't talk much. What about you? Any siblings?" Ezra asked.   
"Only child,” Crowley replied, tucking his sunglasses into his pocket.   
It was nice that Ezra always made sure that he could see without his glasses on in the back of the shop. It got easier, now that it was winter and the days were shorter, but he appreciated it. “Not really in contact with the parents, either.”   
“Why not?” Ezra queried, pulling down a box of tea. “If you don’t mind my asking.”   
“Oh, I pissed off one too many ministers and got myself excommunicated from the church my parents are a part of,” Crowley replied, shrugging his shoulders. “Apparently I ask a lot of questions. And by a lot, I mean too many for the stupid ministers to deal with. Or maybe just the wrong questions. My parents weren't happy about it. I moved in with some friends the moment I could. Did stupid shit until I opened the flower shop nine years ago."   
"Excommunicated? What did you ask to be excommunicated! I did some stupid things while I was at camp, and in the year I spent in ministry school, but I didn't get excommunicated!" Ezra laughed.   
“You went to ministry school?” Crowley asked incredulously.   
“For a year, yes. It wasn’t for me. I didn’t like the mentality they were teaching, but refused to clash over it so I wound up leaving. Still, what did you ask to get you thrown out of a church?”  
“Oh, plenty of stuff. Now, tell me what you did at bible camp, that sounded interesting,” Crowley prompted.   
Crowley heard the door swing open again, was glad to hear two sets of feet running towards Adam’s room. He did like to know that Warlock had gotten wherever he was going safely.   
Ezra gave him a good-natured smile. “Alright, alright, let me get the tea brewing and then I’ll tell you, but I do expect to know what you asked to get kicked out someday.”  
“Alright, alright, just dish, what did you do at this camp?”   
“Well, I may have been caught in a… compromising position with another young man in the camp’s public bathroom? It turned out one of us had forgotten to lock the stall door and were making… a fair bit of concerning noises.”   
“You got busted giving a fellow camp member a blowjob?”   
“No, I was the one… making the concerning noises.”   
Crowley burst out laughing. “Holy shit! I can assure you, you’d be hanging out in my excommunicated corner if that’s anything to go off, letting a boy suck you off in the bathroom of all places? Why didn’t you go someplace… less public?”   
Ezra went bright red, which only made Crowley laugh even harder. “And you didn’t do anything stupid in your church?” Ezra challenged.   
Crowley snorted. “Oh, I got into plenty of trouble in my church, some involving the pastor’s son… and them some more that involved his daughter, which really, I should have had more class than to do that with both of them, but I didn’t get caught.”  
Ezra only managed to squeak before hurriedly pouring them each a cup of tea. “My sister sent this, it’s from a tea farm in America, Light of Day Organics,” he explained, changing the subject. “She claims that all she really knows about us English folk is that we love tea, despite the fact that she did live here when we were children.”   
He handed Crowley one of the cups of tea, they made their way back to the sitting room.  
“How did your whole family wind up in America with you out here?” Crowley asked, raising an eyebrow.   
“We moved from England to Michigan when I was a teenager, I moved back here the moment that I could. I hated America,” Ezra admitted, “none of my siblings agreed with me, however, and I’m the only one who ever made it back over here. The tea is from my youngest sister, who really was quite young when we moved. I suppose it’s a fair guess that she wouldn’t remember much of our time here. I’m the only one who still has an english accent, for one. Our parents did, but my siblings shook it off. I didn’t bother trying, since I was coming back.”  
Crowley nodded. “Never been to America, me. Always mean to go, but it’s just so far away. It’s much easier to take a vacation in Europe, can leave the country without taking a plane. Warlock was fond of… oh, where was it again? Spain? I think it was Spain that he liked a lot. I brought him there over summer break once. I can’t speak a lick of spanish, it was a difficult time.”   
“I took Spanish in high school,” Ezra admitted.   
“Would have been nice to have you there, it took me three hours to learn how to ask where the toilets were, and three hours is a very long time for a child to hold it. I think Warlock wound up going in a back lane somewhere before I managed to find a toilet,” Crowley recalled.   
Ezra couldn’t help but laugh. “I’m sure he’s not the first to have done so.”   
“That’s what I told him, but he still wasn’t impressed with me,” Crowley replied, “it took awhile for him to forget that and enjoy the holiday, he was madder than a hornet. It’s not like he bothered to learn what toilets were in spanish either, and when we left the hotel that morning he assured me he didn’t have to go.”  
Ezra smiled and sipped his tea. “So I suppose you’re warning me that I should never believe Adam when he tells me that he doesn’t need to use the toilet?”   
“Eh, he’s eleven, they’re a little more reliable now,” Crowley admitted, “there’s other things you shouldn’t believe them about now.”   
“And what is that?”  
“Everything else. Kids this age are notorious liars. That said, can’t treat them like you know, because you’ll discourage them when they do tell you the truth. Just have to pretend to believe everything except the really implausible stuff,” Crowley replied, “you wouldn’t believe half the stuff Warlock has tried to convince me of this week alone. If it gets much worse, I’ll start calling him out on it more often.”   
“You don’t already?”   
“Eh, sometimes it’s hard to tell if he’s lying or if something really crazy really did happen. I don’t want to disbelieve him when he’s telling the truth, it’ll only encourage more lying. If I’m not going to believe him, why bother telling the truth?”   
“I suppose I see the logic there.”   
“Kids are complicated,” Crowley said simply, “and a lot of bloody work. Nobody ever tells you how much work they are. Wouldn’t trade it for the world, but good Lord it’s exhausting some days. Not yesterday, yesterday he helped me give Pretzel’s cage a good cleaning, but earlier this week I had to deal with him chasing Baron around the house trying to dress her in some baby clothes he found in a closet. He’s lucky his cat will let him get away with anything, I would have come back bleeding after trying that.”   
“You know, I still have yet to be properly introduced to Pretzel,” Ezra remarked.   
“She’s not the friendliest snake in the world, Ezra, and I normally don’t introduce people to her unless they ask. She’s not exactly a fluffy little kitten, there’s a few people who would rather she stayed in her enclosure and they could pretend she didn’t exist,” Crowley pointed out, “if I do introduce you to her, it’s on you if she bites you, not that it really hurts when she does. Like I said, she’s not particularly friendly and she doesn’t really like new people.”   
“Oh! You needn’t introduce us if you think it’s going to stress her out, I’ll happily just observe her from a distance if you think she would prefer that. She’s your snake, you would know best.”

“Eh, I’m sure she’d warm up to you eventually. But we can save that for later, I need to feed her tomorrow and she won’t appreciate being handled afterwards,” Crowley decided.   
Ezra nodded. “There are a lot of rules to owning a snake, aren’t there?”   
“A lot of rules to owning any pet, Ezra, just so happens that snakes aren’t domesticated and let you know when you break the rules really quickly,” Crowley replied dismissively. “Ball pythons are honestly some of the friendliest snakes out there, it just so happens that Pretzel is a little less friendly than others. I’ve gotten nipped a couple of times, most of them my fault and entirely preventable, and as far as I can remember she’s never bitten Warlock.”  
“I will admit, Dog is a handful at times,” Ezra agreed, looking around for the dog even though he knew that Adam would have him up in his room. “To a certain extent, I do understand why Adam’s parents always said no to a dog, but he is very sweet, and Adam takes good care of him.”  
"Baron doesn't like me. It's a good thing Warlock is taking care of her," Crowley laughed.   
Ezra nodded. "Would it bother you terribly if I were to change the subject? I have a question and you're the only one I can think of to ask," he confessed.   
Crowley leaned forward in his chair, set his tea on the table beside him. "Let's hear it, angel."   
"Is that really going to stick?'   
"It's in the spirit of the season now, isn't it? It could snow any day, and it's nearly December," Crowley reasoned, "regardless, what's the question?"  
"Well… it's just that I don't know what, if anything, Adam celebrates at this time of year, and I'm not really sure how to broach the subject with him," Ezra confessed.   
"Well, given the aforementioned excommunication, I just chose to celebrate the least religious version of Christmas there was, with Santa Claus and stockings and silver bells, but a distinct lack of infants in mangers. And Warlock was young when I adopted him, he didn't have a grasp on what was celebrated in his house, so he went along well with it. His nan sent him a children's bible for Christmas once, he gave it a read, and if he asked me to bring him to a sermon at a church to try it out, I would, but I'm not interested in pushing it on him. Fat load of good pushing religion did for me," Crowley snorted, "point is, just ask him outright. If it helps, Warlock says he's making Christmas gifts for everyone, but that doesn't mean that he knows for sure that's what Adam celebrates."   
"Well, I suppose that makes sense. Although I suppose that begs the question of what happens if it's something else than what I normally celebrate? I'm not saying I go to midnight mass and then church the next morning, too, but I do attend Christmas mass, read the nativity story from the Gospels," Ezra trailed off.   
"Well, I can look after him while you go to mass, if you're interested and he doesn't want to go," Crowley offered, without a moment's hesitation.   
"On the holiday? That would be okay?"   
"Ezra, my parents don't speak to me, and I have no siblings. I spend Christmas Eve home with Warlock, we'd love the company. Speaking of family, does yours come here for the holiday? I'm assuming you don't go to America."   
"No, but we do make sure to call each other and send gifts to the children."   
"So you're on your own, too. Well, I've got an idea then," Crowley began, lips twisting into a smile. "Assuming you're not busy learning the rites and rituals of another holiday for Adam, why don't we spend Christmas together?"   
"Together?"   
"Christmas is for friends and family, after all, and neither one of us have anyone else to see!" Crowley persisted. He leaned a little further in his chair. "It'll be fun, and I can watch the kids while you go to mass! Hell, you could take Warlock with you if it turns out he is interested in giving church a shot! It'll work out perfectly!"  
"It does sound like a pleasant idea, although I suppose I'll need to find out if Adam celebrates Christmas…"  
"Best get on that, last minute Christmas shopping is the worst.”  
”I quite like the malls when it’s nearly Christmas, they’re all so busy and bright and colourful,” Ezra said with a smile. “Even if I don’t need to, I make a point to go out at least once. It’s such a lovely time of year.”  
In response, Crowley simply tapped the pocket he kept his sunglasses in.   
“Oh! Of course, I never even considered that!” Ezra realized, eyes widening. “I suppose all the bright lights and colours wouldn’t be that enjoyable for you, would they?”  
“Well, there is a reason I avoid shopping in December,” Crowley agreed, “although the decorations, when they aren’t giving me a migraine, are nice.”   
“I guess you’re not one for taking Warlock to see all the lights then,” Ezra laughed.   
“Oh, I take him, I just enjoy it a fair bit less than he does. The glasses really do help, it’s not like I’m permanently screwed around bright lights, I just have to be careful. Now, if someone shines an LED flashlight right in my eyes, that’s another story, as well as something Warlock has done before.”  
“He did?” Ezra gasped, “how horrible! It must have hurt terribly!”  
“He was just little, really wasn’t his fault, and it’s not like he had it in my eyes for long. It was uncomfortable, but all around not damaging,” Crowley said dismissively, “he had no way of understanding that it hurt me any more than it would hurt anyone else, so we just had a talk about shining lights in people’s eyes, which isn’t nice either way.”   
Ezra nodded. “And just think, you were explaining that to a young child, and I’m still having trouble getting Adam to even talk to me.”   
“Is he still being shy?” Crowley asked, curious.   
“A little, he’s been getting better a little in the last month. I suppose that’s the other thing I hadn’t considered about the holidays. Maybe he doesn’t want to celebrate at all, this is the first one he’ll spend without his parents,” Ezra said, a little rueful. “It can’t be easy, with all this focus on friends and family, not to have your family anymore.”   
Crowley snorted. “Adam has a family, Ezra. It’s not the one he’s used to, but he does have a family. He has you.”   
“He doesn’t want me, Crowley, he wants his mother and father,” Ezra said quietly.   
"Soon enough, he's going to want anyone there for him, and you've been there since the get-go. Sorry to make it sound like he's got to settle for you, but eventually, he's going to realize that you're the only family he's got, and he'll probably appreciate you a bit more. Just keep up the good work, Ezra. You really did get thrown in the deep end of the pool without anyone teaching you how to swim, but you're doing great things for that kid. I for one can see the difference in him since September."  
Ezra smiled. "You really think so?" He asked, voice bright and hopeful.   
"The kid doesn't hate you, Ezra, even if it seems like he does. He's just hurting. He'll be grateful you're here with him someday, when he's feeling alone and finally realizes that you're here for him."  
Ezra beamed. "I certainly hope that's the case."   
"Would I lie to you?"  
"Well, I don't know, if 'angel' is sticking around, you were dressed as a man who calls himself 'the Demon,' and I believe that demons do lie quite often," Ezra replied.   
"Do they now?" Crowley asked with a smirk.  
Glanced at the clock sitting above their heads. "Shit, I just remembered, I have a consultation first thing in the morning that I need to get ready for. Sorry to run out on you, but-"   
"It's no trouble at all, Crowley, I'll go check to see if Warlock is ready to go or if he would rather stay a little longer. I have no problem with him staying," Ezra assured him, getting up from his seat and walking down to Adam's bedroom.   
"Warlock? Crowley is going to head home now, did you want to go, or would you rather stay here with Adam a bit longer?" Ezra asked.   
"Actually, Ezra, tell Warlock to stay here until I come to get him!"   
Crowley's voice sounded shaken. Ezra glanced back up at the children. "Stay here."   
He rushed back to the front of the flat.   
"Crowley? What's wrong?" He demanded.   
He looked out the door which Crowley had opened to step outside, past the redhead standing on the concrete steps.   
Before Crowley answered his question, Ezra could see that there was someone waiting at Crowley's door for him.   
And Crowley didn't look pleased to see them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gonna take a moment to apologize here, as much as I did consider other wintery holidays, I wound up sticking with what I'm knowledgeable in and have personally celebrated all my life, as I really didn't know much about other religions and holidays. I will put a note at the beginning of the Christmas chapter marking it for what it is, if Christmas celebrations aren't your cup of tea. After this, I’ll try to stick to holidays that aren’t particularly religious.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ezra's worried, Crowley's visitor is less than friendly.

"Crowley? Who is that?" Ezra asked, stepping out onto the steps behind the redhead. 

Crowley glanced between Ezra and his own flat, not having bothered with his glasses. It was dark, only the street lamps made it bright enough to see that someone was standing at his door. 

"No one. Just an old friend, no one I want Warlock to meet. Could you make sure he stays here until I get back?" Crowley asked, made to walk off across the street. 

"Crowley! Are you in danger? Should I call the police? You seem worried!" 

"No, no police!" Crowley shouted, suddenly more urgent than he previously had been. "Ezra, do _ not  _ call the police. He's just an old friend, no concern, I'll get rid of him soon, just don't call the police, got it?" 

That was only  _ more  _ concerning. Why would Crowley be so determined that the authorities not be contacted? "Crowley, this isn't exactly fair, I have no idea what to tell Warlock about why he has to stay! You're worrying me!" 

Crowley forced a smile onto his face. "Nothing to worry about! Just, make sure Warlock doesn't come back,  _ please _ Ezra. Just keep him here while I handle this, not all of my former friends are the sorts of people you introduce your son to!" 

"Why is he here if you don't want him around?" 

"He's never liked following instructions. Everything is fine, Ezra, do you trust me?" 

Now that wasn't really a fair question. Staring at his friend, golden eyes frantic, seconds from bolting, the last thing Ezra was inclined to do was trust him. Something was plainly wrong. 

But he knew he should trust his friend. 

If Crowley said it would all be fine, then he had to believe that. "Fine. You  _ will _ explain this better when you get back, Crowley, but I'll keep Warlock here until you come back for him." 

"You're a godsend, angel," Crowley said quickly, and ran down the pavement and across the street before Ezra could say anything else. 

Ezra blinked twice, and shut the door. 

"Ezra? What's got Anthony so upset?"

Ezra just about jumped out of his skin, whirled around to see Warlock standing behind him.

“Would you believe me if I said that I would tell you if I knew, Warlock?” Ezra asked, a little regretfully. “Crowley wouldn’t tell me much about what was going on, he only asked that you stay here until he comes back. Go and sit down, I’ll make us all some cocoa, alright?” 

Warlock looked between the closed door and Ezra. 

Ezra sighed. “Warlock, don’t make me chase you, you will be faster than me, but then we’ll both have explaining to do for Crowley,” he said, stepping into the way. “Just go sit down in the kitchen, I’ll go get Adam and we can have some hot cocoa. I’m sure Crowley will make this all make sense when he gets back.” 

“Really? I don’t think he’s as honest as you believe he is, Ezra. He has a gun in our house, did you know that?” Warlock asked, raising an eyebrow. 

“Well, you’re perfectly allowed to have a gun, provided you have the proper papers-"

"It's a handgun with the numbers filed off. When I asked him about it, he told me he was going to get rid of it but he agreed too fast and I know he kept it somewhere." 

Ezra needed a moment to process what Warlock had just said. 

His neighbour, his nice, friendly, fine-wine enjoying neighbour, his neighbour that he thought of as a friend, had a gun with filed-off serial numbers hidden in his flat, and lied to his son about it. 

What was Ezra supposed to think about that? Should he even have been trusting Crowley at all? What sort of a person kept a gun in their house, especially one that had the serial number filed off?

Ezra glanced out the window in the door again. 

Crowley wasn’t standing outside anymore, only the strange man stood at the door. 

Ezra bit his lip and stepped away from the door. 

He supposed he had best get himself to Warlock and Adam, they would be waiting for cocoa in the kitchen. 

“Adam? Have you made your way back here, or are you still in your room?” 

“What’s Crowley up to?” 

Ezra supposed that counted as an answer, since the voice came from the kitchen. “I haven’t got a clue, Adam, neither has Warlock. You two just stay in the kitchen, I’ll make us all some cocoa. I’m sure that Crowley will be back soon with an explanation.”

Warlock seemed to be snickering as he entered the kitchen, so either Adam had just told a joke, or Ezra wouldn’t be getting a clear answer from Crowley. 

He sighed. He was beginning to feel as though he really wouldn’t be okay with not getting that clear answer. He needed an explanation for what the hell was going on, whether Crowley wanted to give him one or not. 

This was beginning to scare him, after all. It was one thing for Crowley to need him to watch Warlock for a little while, it was an entirely other thing when Crowley was clearly so worked up over whatever was happening. 

But for now, Ezra had no time to worry about that. He took a deep breath, reached into the cabinet and pulled down the cocoa powder, sugar, salt and vanilla, grabbed the milk out of the refrigerator. 

He placed a saucepan on the stovetop, lit the element and poured the sugar, salt, cocoa and a bit of water in, waited for everything to dissolve before whisking in the rest of the milk required, and the vanilla. 

“Ezra?” Warlock said hesitantly, stopping him as he went to fetch the can of whipped cream out of the fridge to serve with the hot cocoa. 

“Yes, dear?” 

“Do you think Anthony is okay?” He asked, biting at his lip. 

Ezra wasn’t sure how to answer that. He looked at the boy, with his scared blue eyes, and gave his best hopeful smile. “I’m sure he’s fine. He said it was just an old friend he didn’t want you to meet,” he promised, pulling down three mugs from the cupboard and pouring the hot cocoa in, adding a generous amount of whipped cream to each. 

He handed the boys each their own cup, and sat down at the table with them. “He wouldn’t want you to sit and worry about him, Warlock. I’m sure he can handle himself.” 

Warlock nodded, sipped his hot cocoa, but he didn’t look fully convinced.

“I’ll have a word with him when he gets back about leaving you in the dark on such matters, Warlock.” 

“Don’t do that,” Warlock advised. 

Ezra supposed he had a point. Ezra was really in no position to tell Crowley how to parent his son, he barely had a grasp on how to look after Adam.

Ezra took a sip of his cocoa and looked at the calendar. “Adam, you remember the appointment we have tomorrow?” He asked, carefully not mentioning which one that was. 

“Yes I do,” Adam agreed. 

Warlock looked curiously between the two of them. “I have to go see a doctor for my yearly check-up,” Adam lied quickly. 

Warlock nodded. “Do you have to get a shot?” 

“Not this time!” Adam replied. 

“Lucky you. Everytime Anthony brings me to the doctor, I have to get a shot,” Warlock shuddered. 

“Well, Warlock, it’s not a bad thing to get your flu shot every year,” Ezra pointed out, “it sure beats getting the flu. I still get mine each year.”

“But it’s  _ annoying,” _ Warlock complained. 

“I got my flu shot at the flu clinic,” Adam said simply. “So I still got it, just not at this doctor’s appointment. So, Warlock, what do you think about that crazy english project?” He continued, instantly pulling Warlock’s attention away from needles and from what Crowley was up to. 

Ezra breathed a silent thank-you to the boy. 

“Hastur. I see Bee sent the big, the bad  _ and _ the ugly,” Crowley said as he waltzed up to the man standing at his door. “Shame. Could have done with someone easier on the eyes this late at night. What do you want?”

“Mock all you want, Crowley, I’m not the one in trouble. You’d be wise to stop running your mouth,” Hastur hissed, leaning down into Crowley’s face. His breath was rank and foul. 

Crowley coughed. “Am I to assume you’re the muscle, and there’s someone waiting to lecture me inside? I can’t imagine anyone sent you for your speaking abilities, seeing as how you can barely read.”

“And you’re one to talk about reading, Crowley.”

“My eyes don’t work properly in the light, Hastur. What’s your excuse?” Crowley challenged, “seriously, are you the one I need to talk to, or is someone else waiting in my house. Ligur seems like the type to break into my house, he did break into my garage in the summer.”

“Just get inside, Crowley,” Hastur snapped. 

“Do you guys  _ have _ to break into my house every time you show up? What is that about, anyways?” 

“A reminder,” Hastur replied, and then suddenly grabbed onto Crowley’s shirt, jerked him forward, right up into Hastur’s face. “We aren’t Warlock’s nightmares. You can’t get rid of us by turning on the light, or locking the door. We  _ own _ you,” he breathed, and then threw Crowley towards his own front door. "Where is the little rat, anyways?” 

“No where you are,” Crowley replied angrily. 

“Still over with your southern pansy bookshop boyfriend?” Hastur sneered, “you didn’t think we didn’t know about him, did you? We know  _ everything  _ about you. Gotta keep an eye on trouble like you. Get yourself inside and play nicely, and I won’t walk over and introduce myself to Warlock.”

Crowley just about choked. “You  _ stay away _ from Warlock! And from Ezra!” 

“If you behave, we aren’t gonna have any troubles, Crowley. Get inside.”

Crowley shot Hastur one more glare before pulling open the door to his flat and storming into the darkly lit entrance, eyes scanning for a figure that didn’t belong. 

When he didn’t spot anyone in the entrance way, he stepped into the dark hall, still searching, peering into doorways.

He finally spotted a shape that didn’t belong in the house near Pretzel’s enclosure. “If she bites you Bee, I’ll be giving her a treat. She’s due to eat tomorrow, you should really take your hands out of the tank,” Crowley remarked, picking at his fingernails. “She can be feisty if you disturb her around mealtimes. You look as terrible as ever. Here I thought you left Ugly outside, but you brought it in with you."

“If your snake bites me, Crowley…” Bee trailed off, not bothering to answer his snide comment.

“What are you going to do? Punish the snake because I told you not to touch her? Seriously, Bee, breaking into my house in one thing, but have you got to irk Pretzel every time you do it?” Crowley asked, huffing as he walked over and pulled Bee’s hands out of the tank. He stroked Pretzel’s smooth head before he snapped the lid back down. She reared up but made no serious attempt to bite him. “Seriously, she’s a bloody wild animal, why have you got this thing about pissing her off? You  _ know _ she’ll bite you; she’s done it before, and I'll be hard-pressed to convince her to let go this time."

Bee hissed in his general direction but let him pull their hand out of the tank. “You haven’t been taking our calls, Crowley,” they said irritably.

Crowley pretended to seem surprised, at least for a moment. “You’ve been calling? Oh, that’s right! Technology is really incredible; did you know that? Just the other day Warlock showed me how to block phone numbers I don’t want to get calls from!” He exclaimed, grinning at Bee. “So I did just that. I don’t have a lot of numbers I don’t want to have calling me, but yours is one of them. As are the rest of the old friends.”

Bee growled under their breath. “That’s not how this arrangement works, Crowley,” they warned, narrowing their eyes.

"Why not? I told you nine years ago that I wanted out. I have other responsibilities now!" Crowley snapped. He paced along the length of the dining room, glaring at Bee. 

Bee laughed. "Other responsibilities. That's one way of putting it." 

"Have you got a term you prefer?" Crowley challenged, staring down into their piercing blue gaze. 

They didn't blink. 

"Seems I remember you volunteering to take on those responsibilities."

"In exchange for getting out. That was our deal, Bee, I wasn't getting involved with anything else! Why are you so determined to pester me how?" Crowley asked, rolling his eyes. "I'm sure you have more reliable people to use in whatever scheme you've dreamt up this time, I draw the line at what happened last time."

"That won't repeat itself. You know that wasn't the goal." 

"It still happened, and it caused a hell of a mess for us all, didn't it?" Crowley retorted, suddenly agitated. "We only barely got out of that last time! I don't want that for Warlock, I don't want his life to be as messy as mine was." 

"Warlock's life is already as messy as yours was, Crowley," Bee replied. 

"You shut  _ up  _ about that!"

"Brat still doesn't know where he came from?"

"No, and I'm  _ not  _ going to tell him! How do you think that would play out?" Crowley asked, gritting his teeth. "Could you  _ imagine  _ what would happen if he ever found out and ran his mouth? We'd all be  _ fucked!  _ Kids aren't good secret-keepers!" 

Bee smiled, a twisted, sadistic smile. "If you want him to remain unaware, you'll start taking our phone calls again. We think we're going to need you for the next big job. Keep ignoring us, and Warlock might just find out where he came from. After all, if he won't keep his mouth shut about it, we have ways of making him. Either way, your time of playing  _ house  _ in Soho will be over."

"Don't you go near him!" Crowley snarled, lunging at Bee. "If you hurt a hair on his bloody head-"

They laughed, sidestepped him. "Then I think we have a deal." They said simply, smiling brightly at him. "We'll be in touch. Very soon. Make sure you pick up the phone." 

Crowley could only watch, enraged, as Bee walked out his front door, and Hastur drove them both away. 

As soon as they were done the street, Crowley let out an outraged shriek, which did little to get the anger off his chest. 

It was bad enough to push him around. He couldn't stand for them threatening Warlock. 

They wouldn't hurt him. They wouldn't get the chance. 

Because Crowley was going to have to do what they said. 

"Damn it," he hissed, whirling around and pounding his fist into the wall. "Damn it damn it damn it damn it damn it!" 

He continued pounding on the wall, surprised the drywall didn't give. 

They couldn't hurt Warlock. He couldn't let them. He had to do everything in his power and more to protect that kid, and that was what he would do. 

Even if it meant taking orders from his former boss again. 

"Damn it," he hissed again, hit the wall one finally time, felt a frustrated tear run down his cheek. He brushed it away, walked into the kitchen and splashed cold water on his face. He had to regain his composure before he went back for Warlock. 

It didn't matter what situation Bee put him in, he had to be calm for Warlock and for Ezra. 

He took a few deep breaths, dried his face, and walked back across the road. 

Knocked sharply on Ezra's front door.

The door was flung open seconds later by Warlock, who threw his arms around Crowley. "Anthony I was so scared for you!" He cried, clinging tightly to Crowley's middle. 

Crowley took another deep breath, forced a smile,. placed a hand on Warlock's back. "I'm alright, Warlock, nothing to worry about. It's all taken care of, we can go back home now," he murmured, rubbed the boy's shoulder. 

"Crowley!" 

Ezra's voice was sharp and angry. "Either you are going to explain what just happened, or I am calling the police!" 

"Don't call the police!" Crowley said frantically. "No police!" 

"Well then start talking!" 

In response, Crowley glanced down at Warlock, still clinging to him. "Not in front of the kids. Let me get him home and settled and into bed, I promise I'll tell you someday and this will all make sense, but not today. Just  _ don't  _ call the police. If you're as worried as you seem, imagine what would happen if people like that got arrested and they were last seen right here. You'd unleash  _ hell  _ on this neighbourhood." 

Ezra opened his mouth to argue, but couldn't seem to find a defense. "You're absolutely infuriating sometimes, you know that?" He snapped, "if you're not going to explain yourself, and I can't call the police, then get out of my house!" 

Crowley blinked. "Are you… kicking me out?" 

Ezra stumbled for a moment. "Yes! You can come back when you're willing to come clean about what just happened! I have no reason to trust you in my house or around Adam after what just happened tonight! You said those were your old friends! If they're the sorts to unleash hell on this neighbourhood, then so are you, so get out!" 

Crowley lurched back as though he had been struck. "You think I'm like them?" He demanded. 

"You've given me no reason to think otherwise!" 

Crowley tried to say something, but found he didn't have the words. 

He simply shifted Warlock so that he could hold the boy's hand instead of having him wrapped around him like a koala, and stormed out the door. 


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ezra and Adam bake a fruit cake, Crowley wrestles with the truth.

Ezra was slowly giving up hope of Crowley coming back and explaining. The first week, he had been hopeful that his friend would show up at his door, smiling and sheepish with a reasonable explanation, and all would go back to normal. 

But it had now been two weeks, and he hadn’t heard a peep from Crowley. Adam had gone over to his flat to visit Warlock, and Warlock had been to the bookshop, but Crowley and Ezra had not spoken a word to each other.

Ezra didn’t know what to do about that. He stood by what he said, if Crowley wasn’t going to tell him the truth about the whole situation, he didn’t want Crowley in his house. Instead, he had busied himself with other things, finally discovering that his Christmas plans wouldn’t be changed to learn about a new holiday and convincing Adam to help him trim the christmas tree and decorate the bookshop for the holiday. He made a few more sales than normal, with the upcoming gift-giving and festivities, and was really starting to feel confident about the bookshop’s chances at success. 

Adam had another two weeks of school before he was let off for the holidays, and the excitement was mounting. 

Ezra had yet to ask Adam  _ how _ he wanted to celebrate the coming holiday. His original plan with Crowley was clearly out if Crowley didn’t saunter back across the street with an explanation and an apology. 

He was beginning to wonder if he shouldn’t offer Adam a travel opportunity. Maybe it would be nice to leave London, spend the holiday in a completely new way so that it couldn’t hurt as much to not have his parents there. 

Ezra supposed that it might be wishful thinking just to imagine that it might hurt less. 

“Adam? Are you still going to help me bake a fruit cake?” He called down the hallway, but still didn’t let himself into the boy’s room. He wanted Adam to be able to keep that privacy. 

He still tried not to disturb Adam when he was in his room. 

A few seconds passed before Adam stepped out of his room, in wrinkled pyjamas. 

“Did you just wake up?” Ezra asked, raising an eyebrow. 

“No, just didn’t feel like getting dressed,” Adam replied. 

“Fair enough. I assume this means you  _ do _ want to help me?” 

He was rather looking forward to baking with Adam. It wasn’t the sort of bonding opportunity that he had ever thought he would have with a child, and it wasn’t the sort of thing he would have thought Adam would ever want to partake in. 

“I do. I used to help mum make cookies for the holidays,” Adam admitted. 

“If… if you ever wanted to tell me about them, I think I would like that,” Ezra said gently, not really sure how to broach the subject. “If you think that would help. I don’t know, maybe that’s what you talk with Missus Lilith about, but if you ever wanted to…” 

“I’ll keep that in mind. And you know I’m not going to tell you about what Missus Lilith and I talk about,” Adam reminded him. 

Ezra smiled. “Of course, dear boy. As long as she’s helping, I don’t expect you to tell me anything.” 

Adam nodded. "She is, really," he promised, "now let's go make some fruit cake!" 

Ezra smiled. “Alright, you know where the kitchen is!” 

Adam rushed down the hall, leaving Ezra no choice but to follow behind him, still smiling. 

It truly was nice when Adam was willing to allow them the opportunity to do things like this together. 

It made Ezra feel like he might really  _ be _ a parent, not just someone who happened to have a child in his care. He didn’t expect Adam to ever refer to him as a parent, but it was nice just to get to bond with him. 

It had never occured to Ezra that he might want children until Adam had come into his life, and now, even with all of the difficulty, he wouldn’t have it any other way.

“Alright. I went to the bulk store the other day for the dried fruits, is there any sort of fruit you absolutely do not want in this fruit cake?”

“No lemon peel, okay?” Adam replied.

Ezra smiled. “No lemon peels, I promise. I have dried pineapple, dates, dried apricots, candied cherries, raisins, and crystalized ginger.” 

“That all sounds alright,” Adam decided. 

“Now, I can’t imagine you have a preference between rum or brandy for soaking the fruits, but I have an old bottle of brandy to get rid of, so we’ll use that,” Ezra decided, walking off to fetch the bottle. 

By the time he got back, Adam had found the paper bags of various dried fruits and laid them out on the counter. Ezra pulled down a glass bowl and poured in a generous amount of the brandy. Adam gave the bowl a cursory sniff and wrinkled his nose. 

“It won’t taste much like that at all, I promise. And baking will take the alcohol content out, so you’ll be able to eat it,” Ezra assured him. 

Adam nodded. 

“Alright, will you measure out the raisins? We need three-hundred and seventy-five millilitres,” Ezra instructed. 

Adam grabbed the paper bag full of raisins and a measuring cup. Ezra decided he would let Adam handle the fruits while he got everything he needed for the batter ready. 

He busied himself pulling out flour and butter and sugar, telling Adam how much of each fruit to add as the boy finished with the last one. He added more candied cherries than necessary, since they were his favourite fruit in the cake. 

When that was done, he stuck the bowl in the microwave for one minute, covered the top and let it sit. It saved them having to wait until tomorrow to continue, and the batter would likely take long enough to make that the fruits would be done sitting.

Adam looked up at him expectantly. “What next, Ezra?” 

“You are going to cream the sugar and the butter together,” Ezra replied. He grabbed the canister of brown sugar, packed down five hundred milliliters and poured them into a bowl that he handed to Adam. Then he grabbed the butter, the recipe called for around two-hundred and fifty millilitres of butter, which he added to the bowl that Adam was holding, and then handed him a wooden spoon. “Mix those together-” 

“Until they’re nice and creamy, I know how to beat butter and sugar.”

While Adam mixed the sugar and butter, Ezra slowly added in other spices and baking powder, one at a time. 

Then he cracked the first egg into the bowl. “Mix that in really well, and we’ll add the next one,” he told Adam. 

The boy nodded, a look of determination on his face as he mixed the egg into the batter he was slowly making. 

When it was well mixed, Ezra cracked another into the bowl. Adam mixed that one in diligently, and then said that he wanted to crack the next egg. 

Ezra agreed, held the bowl steady while Adam tapped the eggshell against the edge and split it open. He was fairly sure he saw a piece of shell fall into the batter as Adam pulled the egg in half and dumped the contents into the bowl, but he didn’t say anything. One little piece wouldn’t hurt anyone. Adam mixed that egg in as well, then added the fourth and stirred it in while Ezra whisked the flour and cocoa together in a separate bowl. 

When he was done, he added the syrup and Adam’s mixture to the flour and cocoa, and handed the boy the bigger bowl. Adam stirred it until it was nice and smooth, and Ezra checked the time. 

They had about another twenty minutes before the fruits were ready to go in. “Well, we need to take a break now, I’ll wash the dishes if you dry?” He offered. 

Adam, to his surprise, nodded. “Sounds fair.” 

Ezra grinned and plugged the sink, filled it full of suds and hot water, got to washing out the bowls and measuring cups. 

He was doing a very good job of it until Adam reached over and splashed the dishwater up in his face. 

“Oh!” 

Adam burst into a fit of laughter. “You have bubbles in your hair!” He cried. 

“I do?” Ezra laughed, reaching into the sink and splashing some of the soapy water in Adam’s direction. “So do you, now!”

In the end, the fruits soaked for much longer than necessary, since Adam and Ezra had to spend some time getting changed and mopping up the kitchen floor, which was covered in soapy water. 

And while Ezra was cutting them each a generous slice of the freshly-baked fruitcake after dinner, he realized that he didn’t think he had spent a happier day with Adam. 

It took Crowley all day to work up the nerve to walk across the street once he had decided on what he was going to say. 

It had taken him an embarrassingly long time to decide, but it was a complicated matter that he was trying to explain, with a lot of intricate details, and a lot of repercussions for everyone if he said the wrong thing. 

First and foremost, he had to protect Warlock. He couldn’t say anything that would jeopardize his son’s safety. If the wrong thing got out, Bee  _ would _ send someone after him, and it wouldn’t end well for himself or Warlock.

There was too much that Warlock  _ had _ to be protected from at all costs. Too much that Warlock could never find out about his guardian. 

Too much that Warlock could never find out about  _ himself. _

So already, the story had to be modified. He couldn’t tell Ezra the whole truth, because Ezra, as much as it pained him to admit it, could not be trusted with it. 

No one could. 

But finally, after two weeks of debating, Crowley had settled one what he was going to say, and he just had to work up the nerve to walk across the street to talk with the friend he had ignored for the last two weeks. 

But, there was no point in delaying it any longer. He took a deep breath, squared his shoulders, told Warlock to stay where he was and to go to Shadwell and Tracy’s if something went wrong, and walked across the road. 

Knocked on Ezra’s door. 

After a few moments, Ezra pulled it open. 

“Crowley,” he began, seeming surprised to see him. 

Crowley held the potted plant he had brought out in front of him. “I figured you guys could probably use a poinsettia, it is the season. I’m sorry it took me so long, angel, can I come in so that we can talk?” 

Ezra took the plant, but didn’t immediately welcome him in. “Crowley, it’s been two weeks! How hard is it to tell me the truth that it took you two weeks to come over to do it?” 

“I was involved with some really shady things, Ezra, I had to decide whether it was going to be dangerous for me to tell you or not,” Crowley said smoothly. "I wasn't going to risk anyone's safety to tell you."

Ezra hesitated, Crowley saw the flash of sympathy on his face. “Very well, come in, we’ll talk,” he agreed, stepping out of the way of the door. 

Crowley stepped inside, smiling gratefully. “Thank you, Ezra. I could have understood if you had told me just to go home.” 

“I have to admit, I am curious,” Ezra confessed, setting the poinsettia down on the coffee table. “Would you like some tea?” 

“You don’t have to-” 

“I’m making tea for myself, do you want some?” Ezra asked flatly. 

“Yes please.” 

Ezra stepped into the kitchen, Crowley took his usual seat, but didn’t sprawl out the same way he normally would. He sat very straight, waited for Ezra to return. 

It took a few minutes, but Ezra did return with two cups of tea, and two plates, each with a slice of fruit cake.

"Adam and I made this one ourselves," he mentioned, offhand, as he handed Crowley the tea and cake. 

"It looks delicious, angel-"

"No, no pet names. I want you to explain what happened, you scared the hell out of me! Until then, you can lay off the pet names." 

Crowley bit his lip. "Right." 

He took a deep breath and a sip of tea before starting. "I… hung around the crowd we're supposed to be teaching Adam and Warlock to avoid when I was younger," he confessed. Scratched the back of his head. "The wrong sort of people, to put it mildly."

"So those are the old friends you don't want Warlock meeting? Why do they still come around, Crowley, if they were old friends?" Ezra asked. 

"They never did take the hint that I didn't want them around, and they're not the sorts of people I can do anything about when they show up at my house. It's like I said the other day, if anything were to happen to the ones that dropped by, we would  _ all  _ be in shit."

“And there’s nothing you can do about them?” 

“They aren’t harmful, Ezra, and I’m not involved with anything they do. They check in, chat, make sure they haven’t got a loose end with loose lips to tie up, and then they leave,” Crowley explained, trying to sound dismissive. “It’s not like they’re big-wig crime lords, just low-level felons. I just know what they  _ could  _ do if provoked, and besides, they’re old friends, Ezra. I sort of owe them.”

“Why do you owe them?”

“They took me in when I left home, didn’t they? I had nowhere else to go, my parents wanted me gone, they took me in and found me a job when I couldn’t help with rent at first. The Bentley? They helped me get the money to buy that. I certainly didn’t have it, they gave me a job driving and a cut of profits. I owe them at  _ least _ my silence.”

Ezra took a moment to mull that over. “So they won’t hurt anyone?” 

“That’s right,” Crowley agreed, before quickly filling his mouth with a bite of fruit cake. “This is really excellent, Ezra, if ever you decide that selling books isn’t working out, you could have a future in baked goods,” he praised. 

“You were involved in their crimes?” Ezra asked quietly. 

“I drove for them, didn’t get involved in their actual business,” Crowley replied easily, “so I suppose you could say I was an accomplice. I  _ knew _ what was happening, sure. I’m not proud of it, Ezra, but I was eighteen and desperate and they had a shot for me. I got out, got clean, shortly before I opened the flower shop and adopted Warlock. Decided that the life of crime wasn’t what I wanted for my future. Now I’m doing everything I can to make sure Warlock doesn’t get involved with the same people I did. It’s part of why I don’t want him to meet those old friends.” 

Ezra was still silent for a moment, but Crowley could see that his resolve was crumbling quickly. “I  _ am _ sorry, Ezra. I should have explained better when I left Warlock here, but I wasn’t expecting them and wasn’t prepared. They don’t come around that often.”

Ezra sighed. “I just have one more question,” he confessed. 

“What is it?” Crowley asked, confident that he had everything in order. What could Ezra possibly ask now to throw off his reasoning?

“Warlock… Warlock told me that you keep a handgun with filed-off serial numbers in your nightstand. Why do you need that, if you and your friends were low-level felons?” 

Crowley’s voice died in his throat. He sat in silence, trying to force words out for a while before finally managing to spit out, “he told you about that, did he? Well then he should have told you that I got rid of it after he asked me about it. It was an old habit dying hard, Ezra. Just because we were low-level doesn’t mean we weren’t armed.” 

“You held onto it for all this time?” 

“Can’t be too careful in Soho, Ezra. It’s not  _ Whitechapel, _ of course, and it’s no longer the nineteenth century, but you really can’t be too careful. I got used to having it, and was reluctant to give up the protection. But, like I said, when Warlock questioned me on it and I realized that it wasn’t as secure as I had thought it was, I got rid of it. I don’t have it anymore,” Crowley assured him. 

Ezra looked about ready to question that, and Crowley felt a flash of fear that Warlock had managed to find it again, hidden where it was, but Ezra didn’t say anything and Crowley dismissed it. Warlock wouldn’t have found it, not where it was hidden now. 

“And you promise that you’ve told me everything?” Ezra asked. 

“Promise. It’s not a pretty story, I don’t like telling it, but I’m sorry that it took me so long to tell you. I know I scared you and I shouldn’t have expected you to just handle what had happened without an explanation.”

Ezra took a deep breath. “I… suppose that I can understand why you didn’t want to tell me,” he conceded, “but now that I know, I want to be clear, Crowley. You can tell me anything you need to, and I do expect to be told the truth when things seem to endanger Adam and myself. Who knows what could have happened if I had reacted badly!” 

Crowley bowed his head. “I wasn’t thinking clearly. I panicked, it won’t happen again. I don’t want anything to happen to you or Adam.”

Ezra seemed satisfied with that, he leaned back in his chair. “Thank you for telling me, Crowley.”

Crowley breathed a sigh of relief. Everything was okay. Ezra believed him. 

Of course, that wasn’t a surprise. All the best lies were based on the truth, and Crowley was an experienced liar.


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Without families to go home to for the holidays, who could be better to spend Christmas Eve with than your neighbour?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heyo! This is the Christmas chapter! Important plot points (mostly just the cute gifts they give each other) in a note at the end if you don’t want to read this part!

The snow was on the ground, and Ezra couldn’t be happier for it. Despite the fact that it made his bus ride to church that evening a little less reliable, it was the perfect day for snow.   
After all, who could ask for something more perfect than snow on Christmas Eve?   
It had snowed before, but it had all melted away before Christmas, and Ezra had been saddened to think that there wouldn’t be any snow for Christmas. In Tadfield, without fail, it had seemed to snow every Christmas Eve.   
At least that seemed to be true here, too. Large, fluffy white snowflakes were falling from the dark clouds above, covering the ground and decking everything with a coating of fluffy white snow. Adam was outside, running around and playing in the snow with Warlock and the others.   
Ezra had longed to join him, but he was a grown man, and he had his half of the Christmas dinner to cook.   
He still didn’t fully know how to feel about Crowley’s story, about the truth of his strange friends and his dark past, but he had agreed to reinstate their plans for the evening.   
They had agreed on a share of the preparations, Crowley had somehow talked Ezra into letting him supply the wine, it was a special occasion, after all, and Ezra had decided that he would cook most of the food in exchange.   
So, he still had a turkey in the oven, and stuffing on the stovetop, and potatoes boiling to mash later. Crowley was making cranberry sauce, which he claimed he had an incredible homemade recipe for, gravy, and vegetables.   
Additionally, Ezra had baked an apple pie and fruit cake. Warlock had mentioned that he was bringing his own dessert, but wouldn’t tell anyone what he was making. Ezra imagined that by now Crowley was well aware of whatever it was, but he still didn’t know what it would be.   
He welcomed the surprise.   
He had his gifts all tied up in brown paper and string, although Adam had insisted that was old-fashioned and people used wrapping paper now. Ezra was well aware of wrapping paper, but found that it often wasn’t recyclable, so he had stuck with brown paper.   
Adam and Ezra would open their gifts tomorrow morning, but he had a gift for Warlock, and one for Crowley, all wrapped up and placed under the tree.   
He did hope they would be well-received. Adam had promised him that Warlock would like his own, but he had no idea about Crowley.  
The oven beeped, and Ezra stepped back into the kitchen to check on his cooking. 

“Shall I call Adam and Warlock inside?” Ezra offered, as Crowley stepped into the room, arms laden with various tote bags.   
“Eh, they’re having fun, why bother? It’s not time to eat yet, at least, I hope it’s not, everything I made needs a quick reheating, I started too early,” Crowley admitted. He carefully placed the three tote bags he was struggling with on the ground.   
One clanked, so Ezra assumed that one had the wine, one had two brightly wrapped packages, and one was full of various pots and dishes.   
“I’ll get the food into the kitchen, you can put the gifts under the tree, and then-”   
“We can open a bottle of wine while the boys play outside, provided you don’t plan on driving yourself to church?” Crowley asked, raising an eyebrow.   
“I’ll take the bus,” Ezra replied, lifting up the tote bag full of food and carrying it into the kitchen.   
“When is mass, anyways?”  
“After dinner. I tried going before dinner a few times and just found that I can’t hear the priest over my stomach," Ezra replied.   
"Excellent," Ezra heard a bottle be pulled out of the third and final bag. "Where's your corkscrew, I think you're going to like this one!"   
Ezra had promised himself he wouldn't inquire about the wines tonight. It was Christmas, and Crowley had bargained with dinner to be allowed to supply the alcohol. It wouldn't be fair to rob him of his fun by asking about vintages and getting uncomfortable.  
Besides, maybe it would do him good to put it out of his head and just enjoy sharing wine with a friend. Christmas was meant to be a pleasant night, and Ezra wanted to have a pleasant time. “The corkscrew? It’s stuck on the fridge, it’s magnetic!” Ezra called.   
Crowley walked into the kitchen behind Ezra, and moments later, he heard a wine bottle pop open. Crowley knew where the wine glasses were, and poured two generous glasses of a deep red wine.   
He handed one glass to Ezra, and clinked their glasses together. “Merry Christmas, Ezra,” he said with a smile, and sipped the wine.   
“Merry Christmas,” Ezra repeated, sipping the wine.   
It was lovely, sweet and fruity and sparkling, not at all what Ezra expected Crowley to pick, but lovely nonetheless. “This is really nice,” he praised.   
“I am a fan of this one,” Crowley agreed, placing the bottle on the counter and setting about getting the food he had brought over warmed back up. Soon, the kitchen smelled strongly of gravy and roasted vegetables. Ezra smiled.   
“I think this has to be my favourite holiday,” he admitted, taking another sip of his wine.   
“I think you can guess mine, Angel,” Crowley replied with a grin, “and it’s not the one that causes migraines with the decorations.”   
“You must love Halloween, obviously,” Ezra replied.   
“Indeed I do. The food smells delicious, Ezra, you truly are a gifted cook. Warlock made raisin pudding, it looks a little off, but pretend I didn’t tell you that. He wanted to surprise you two,” Crowley explained, pulling out a ceramic dish that was covered in aluminium foil. “It should be okay, I helped and he’s a decent cook,” he admitted.   
Ezra laughed. “I’m sure it will be lovely, Crowley. Adam helped with the fruit cake again, but this time he was more interested in getting outside to play in the snow, so I mostly did it myself. Even so, there’s all sorts of goodies in here, so there will be plenty of sweets to eat if it turns out that you and Warlock couldn’t make a raisin pudding.”   
Crowley chuckled. “Well, that’s reassuring,” he said.   
“How goes the reheating? Mass starts at eight, so we should eat soon. The bus is always slow on Christmas Eve, from what I read in the reviews,” Ezra fretted.   
“We’re just about done, you can go get the kids,” Crowley replied.   
Ezra nodded, set the glass of wine on the counter and walked out into the snow. “Warlock! Adam! It’s dinner time!”  
It was amazing how quickly young boys could appear when they were hungry. Instantly, both boys stood in front of Ezra. “Come on in, you two, Crowley’s just finishing up dinner. Go get washed up.”   
Warlock and Adam walked into the back of the bookshop, kicking off wet snow boots and hanging up winter coats. Ezra carefully skirted past them to help Crowley get dinner on the table. They were eating in the sitting room, Ezra’s dining room table wasn’t big enough for the large meal and extra people, but they set out the dishes on the table for everyone to fill their plates from. Adam and Warlock were in the dining room faster than he would have thought possible, loading up plates with roast vegetables, turkey with a cranberry sauce Ezra had to admit was an incredible recipe, stuffing and mashed potatoes smothered in gravy.   
Then they all filed into the sitting room and took their seats. Crowley produced a bottle of sparkling fruit juice for the boys, to go along with the sparkling wine that he and Ezra were drinking, and Ezra supplied both boys with wine glasses to drink the juice out of. They both made a big deal of it, clinking their glasses so many times Ezra was surprised they didn't shatter, but he let them have their fun.   
After all, it was Christmas, and the first Christmas Ezra hadn't spent alone in a dreadfully long time. Seated in the sitting room with both boys and Crowley carefully picking at the food on his plate, ever without an appetite and trying to hide it, it was the happiest Christmas Eve Ezra could remember spending, with loud conversation and giggling children who very quickly had too much sugar, seeing as how Ezra had set out the store bought sweets on the coffee table before dinner was finished.   
He was almost reluctant to get up and go to Mass, especially since he was the only one going, but he did want to go, so he bade Crowley and the children goodbye for a while and stepped out into the snow to catch his bus. 

"So boys, what are we going to go while Ezra is away?" Crowley asked, an appropriately long time after Ezra had stepped out the door.   
"Well, I was thinking there's one tradition of ours I wouldn't mind not breaking, Anthony, and apparently Adam has never seen The Nightmare Before Christmas, so I did bring it over here," Warlock admitted, pulling out the DVD even though Crowley wasn't sure where it had been before he produced it.   
Crowley smiled. "Alright, Adam, does that appeal to you?" He asked.   
Adam nodded. "I am rather curious to see what all the fuss is about," he confessed.   
"Great. Just need to find the television in here," Crowley muttered.   
"It's built into a box in the wall so it can be put away when guests are here," Adam explained. He stood up and opened a door against the far wall of the sitting room, and there sat an old tube television with an equally antique DVD player.  
Crowley just laughed and turned on the old machine, listening to it hum to life and the screen crackle as he started up the DVD player and set the movie to run.   
While the boys watched Jack Skellington and Sally get into trouble, Crowley cleaned up the kitchen, placing leftovers in containers in the fridge and washing the cooking dishes. No one liked coming home to a filthy kitchen, and it wasn't like he couldn't recite most of the movie from memory.   
The film had just ended and the boys were chattering excitedly when Ezra arrived home from church. "Crowley, dear!" He cried as he stepped into the kitchen, "you didn't have to clean while I was away!"  
"Eh, wasn't so hard. Besides, I got dessert all laid out in here. The boys just finished their film."   
"Film?"   
"Warlock and I have a habit of watching The Nightmare Before Christmas on Christmas Eve, he found out that Adam had never seen it and insisted they watch it while you were away," Crowley explained, "it's nothing too scary, don't worry," he added when Ezra didn't seem familiar with the film.  
Ezra smiled. "Thank you for watching Adam while I was away," he said.  
"It's no problem," Crowley replied.   
"It was very sweet of you nonetheless."  
"Ngk."  
There was a moment of silence. "Dessert is on the table!" Crowley finally called to the boys in the living room.   
There was fruitcake, apple pie, Warlock's raisin pudding, and all the sweets already in the sitting room. The boys rushed in to fill plates with dessert, while Ezra and Crowley laughed.   
When the children were done, Crowley and Ezra filled their own plates, Crowley urged Ezra to take part of his share since they all knew Crowley was barely going to eat anything. Crowley poured them each a new glass of wine, and they all crowded back into the sitting room. Dog yapped at their ankles, having been released from Adam’s room after dinner, and tried to steal food off plates, the reason he had been locked up to start with.  
The boys were already there, making funny faces and eating even more sugary treats. They were not going to sleep tonight, that was for certain. Truth be told, Crowley really didn’t mind. Warlock had given up believing in Santa Claus when he had come down the stairs for water on Christmas Eve and caught Crowley filling his stocking last year, which had been a bit of an uproar at the time, and as long as he got a chance to sleep, he didn’t particularly mind whatever Warlock did.   
He hoped that Ezra had a similar agreement with Adam, because he couldn’t imagine that Adam was going to sleep any better than Warlock.   
“Oh, I brought you both gifts,” Crowley remembered suddenly, “Warlock would not help me pick yours, Adam, since he made you his own, so I hope that you like it,” he continued, standing up and grabbing the gifts from under the Christmas tree. He handed one package to Adam, and another to Ezra.   
“I have something for you two as well!” Ezra said with a smile, and Crowley watched as he walked over and grabbed two more packages from beneath the tree. “Yours has something for Pretzel in it too, I saw it and couldn’t resist picking it up for her,” he told Crowley.   
“You didn’t have to get her anything, I didn’t grab anything for Dog, now I feel bad!”   
“Dog has more than enough toys, don’t worry,” Ezra chuckled, “most of the time I can’t walk through the flat without tripping on three. Just open the gift, Crowley.”   
“Alright, alright, but it looks like the boys have decided they’re going first,” Crowley laughed, looking over at the sound of tearing wrapping paper.   
Ezra had given Warlock a build-your-own solar system, which he looked absolutely thrilled to put together and almost tore off the plastic wrapping before Crowley reminded him of the fact that it was late and pieces may go missing, and he could make it tomorrow.   
Adam, thankfully for Crowley, was equally thrilled with the dig-your-own fossils kit Crowley had finally chosen after Warlock had refused to help him pick something. Ezra would doubtlessly lament about the mess it would make, but Adam seemed excited, and that was what mattered.   
“Warlock, what do you say to Ezra?” Crowley asked pointedly as both boys, in their excitement, nearly ran off.   
“Thank you, Ezra!”   
Without further prompting, Warlock ran over and gave Ezra a hug, which Ezra didn’t seem to mind.   
Adam looked resentful to be shown up, but clearly wasn’t as comfortable giving hugs. Crowley held out his hand for a handshake instead.   
Adam smiled gratefully and shook his hand. “Thank you, Crowley,” he said.   
“You’re very welcome, Adam. I thought I remembered you liking fossils,” Crowley grinned.  
“I do!” Adam agreed, before releasing Crowley’s hand and running off with Warlock.   
Crowley turned back to Ezra. “He must really like you, he rarely hugs anyone!” He laughed.   
“Even you?”   
“Okay, not including me, but I’m his family, that doesn’t count as much,” Crowley conceded.   
“Well, he has had a lot of chances to decide to like me, you do come over for tea every evening. He sees me almost as much as he sees you!” Ezra laughed.   
“Fair point,” Crowley agreed, “anyways, angel, I believe it’s our turn to open gifts now.”   
“It would seem, the children had disappeared, along with half the goodies I had set out, and Dog,” Ezra said, “you go first, I’m excited to see if you like it!”   
“Alright, alright,” Crowley agreed, and carefully slipped a finger under the fold in the brown paper, pulling the tape away from where it was stuck and rather delicately opening up the gift.   
He watched Ezra’s face with amusement. “It drives Warlock batty when I do this as well,” he said with a grin. “He can’t figure out why I won’t just tear through the paper, and honestly, now I do it to bug him.”   
“I can see why it drives him batty!”   
Crowley just laughed some more and pulled out the first part of the present, which was a little tartan hammock for Pretzel’s enclosure. “I don’t believe this, does it match your bow tie?” Crowley asked, holding ip up to see.   
“Very close, it’s why I couldn’t help getting it. I thought she might warm up to me better if she was used to the pattern!”   
“You still haven’t had the chance to meet her, have you?”   
“Not beyond seeing her in the tank,” Ezra replied.   
“I really do need to rectify that,” Crowley decided. “She just ate a couple of days ago, so she won’t want to eat again until after New Years, and she’s not about to shed unless she does it early, so she should be pretty friendly right about now.”  
“Oh, excellent! She did seem very sweet from within her tank, I look forward to meeting her up-close.”  
“She sure has you fooled,” Crowley chuckled, “no, she is pretty sweet when she wants to be.”   
As he spoke, he tipped the package and slid the last thing inside into his hands.   
“It’s an audiobook,” Crowley began, closing his eyes tightly for a moment before focusing on the title. It was barely light enough for reading while not hurting his eyes. “Wuthering Heights. I don’t think I’ve heard this one!”  
“Well, I do hope you like it, I remembered what you told me about not enjoying reading due to your eyes being sensitive but I do love a good book and wanted to give you one. I hope that’s okay?”  
“Of course it is angel! It will be nice to have something to listen to while I’m closing up the shop that I’ve never heard before,” Crowley assured him. “Now you open yours, Ezra.”   
Ezra ripped right through the colourful wrapping paper, uncovering the mug Crowley had found for him.   
It was an ordinary white mug, but for the handle. Rather than a normal handle, it had a pair of angel wings.   
“I thought if it was going to stick, you should have something to show it that isn’t only appropriate at Halloween,” Crowley explained with a grin.   
“Oh, it’s absolutely lovely! Come into the kitchen, I’ll make cocoa and we can put it to use right now! Do you like cocoa?” Ezra asked suddenly, as though realizing he didn’t know.   
“I do like cocoa, angel, although I can’t say I’ve made it from scratch before. Care to teach me?”  
“Absolutely!” Ezra made off for the kitchen, but stopped before he got to the doorway and turned around. “Merry Christmas, Crowley.”   
“Merry Christmas, Ezra.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Plot points: Not much, Crowley gave Ezra the mug Aziraphale has in the show and Ezra gave him an audiobook copy of Wuthering Heights, I promise the audiobook gifts will get cuter over time, give me a chance and some time ;)  
> No Christmas Day chapter, the next one will be New Years Eve with something you’ve been waiting for!


	13. Chapter 13

“Adam!” Ezra called across the house. 

“Yes Ezra?” Adam replied, poking his head out of his room. 

“Do you have anywhere you want to go for New Years tonight?” Ezra asked, and Adam shook his head. “Alright, would you be interested in going over to Crowley’s? He’s invited us over for snacks and, well, maybe he has more sparkling juice for you, but that’s not what he invited  _ me _ over for.” 

“We’re spending an awful lot of time with Crowley, Ezra,” Adam remarked with a smirk, “is there a reason for that?” 

“My dear boy, what ever are you implying?” Ezra asked, frowning. 

“I think you know why I’m asking you, Ezra,” Adam replied. 

Ezra felt his face flush. “I haven’t got a clue what you mean, Adam,” he claimed, “now are you interested or not?” 

“Yeah, it sounds like fun!” Adam agreed, “but I don’t retract that question, Ezra.” 

Ezra simply walked away, and Adam cackled a bit to himself behind the comfort of his closed door. 

He supposed he did have an idea of what Adam was implying, but he was in no mood to have that conversation right now. There were far more important things to be worrying about lately. 

The bookshop was not doing well enough to pay the bills after the holiday. Ezra was trying desperately to make ends meet, but it didn’t seem like it was going to work out positively. 

It would be nice to spend the evening relaxing with Crowley and not worrying about all the problems that were stacking up on him. 

Crowley would have some nice wine, maybe champagne, he had teased champagne for New Years, and Ezra could sit back and decompress. Sure, the price of the wine drank would likely make a lovely dent in Ezra’s bills that weren’t adding up, but he was coming to accept that Crowley had refined tastes and enjoyed sharing fine wines with his friends. 

And right now, he could do with a nice glass of wine. Obviously he couldn't mention his problems to Crowley, they were dreadfully embarrassing and he didn't want Crowley to somehow decide to make him a charity case. 

He didn’t think his pride could stand that. 

So far, no one knew. It was easier not to tell anyone. 

“Right, well, we’re going to head over soon, there’s leftovers in the fridge for dinner, come and help yourself when you’re hungry, Adam,” Ezra said. 

“I will!” Adam replied. 

Satisfied with that answer, Ezra pulled out some of the aforementioned leftovers, stuck them on a plate and placed it in the microwave. It was nothing glamourous or fancy, but he was rather peckish and didn’t have the patience to warm them up any other way. 

Adam wandered into the kitchen around when Ezra finished eating, serving himself a plateful of leftovers. 

“Crowley tells me that Warlock has some games set up in the sitting room for you to play. I must say that I’m not entirely sure what that means, but I do know that house is more technologically advanced than ours,” Ezra told him. 

“I told Warlock that it’d been months since I played  _ Mario Kart, _ since it burned up with everything else in my house, and he mentioned that he had a copy for his Wii and that he’d set it up the next time I came over,” Adam replied. 

Ezra thought about that for a moment. “I know I haven’t been able to replace a lot of what you lost in the fire, in terms of material things. I can try harder, but I’m afraid we haven’t got the money for a new gaming console, or a television you could plug one into, for that matter. I find we’re rather lucky that thing has the attachments for a DVD player.” 

“It’s alright, Ezra. I still have a lot to do, and besides, this way it’s a novel thing for all those times you and Crowley want to spend the evening together,” Adam laughed. 

“I haven’t the foggiest what you may be implying, it’s simply nice to have a good friend here. It’s been a very long time since I’ve had a friend like Crowley.” 

Adam snickered. “I can imagine it’s been a  _ long _ time since you had a  _ friend _ like Crowley,” he laughed, putting his plate into the microwave. 

“If you say anything like that in front of him, you’re grounded,” Ezra warned, finally conceding that he knew what Adam meant. “We’re just close friends.”

“But you would totally go to dinner with him if he invited you,” Adam added. 

“We have been to dinner with Crowley and Warlock,” Ezra replied. 

“Oh, you know what I mean, Ezra! You would totally go  _ out _ to dinner with  _ just him _ if he asked you to, and even I know what that means!” 

Ezra blushed. “Well, perhaps I would. There’s nothing wrong with being open to a… closer relationship at my age. You are still a little young for that, but I  _ am _ an adult and can  _ go out to dinner _ with someone if I please.” 

Adam just laughed even more as Ezra confirmed he was right. 

Ezra just put his plate away. “Are you almost ready to go?”

“I’ll be done dinner in a moment, you go over without me. I’ll catch up, I’m more than old enough to lock the door behind me.”

“Alright, alright, be careful when you cross the street, Adam,” Ezra instructed, “it’s early, but it  _ is _ New Years Eve, if I could think of a day people would be drinking and driving…”

“I’ll be careful,” Adam promised. 

Satisfied with that, Ezra pulled on his coat and headed across the road. 

Warlock pulled open the door. “Crowley’s still cooking, he’s gone a little excessive again,” he reported, “you’d think we were having the whole neighbourhood over, but honestly we just couldn’t decide what to make and what not to.” 

Ezra couldn’t help but laugh at that. “That sounds like Crowley,” he agreed, “even though he’ll barely eat any of it.” 

“You wound me, Ezra, you really do,” Crowley said, stepping out of the kitchen. He had a ridiculous, pink “Kiss the Cook” apron on. 

“Where did you get  _ that?” _

“Warlock gave it to me for Christmas,” Crowley replied. Warlock laughed. 

“I sure did!” 

Ezra smiled at him. “Well, it’s an excellent apron, Warlock, you have impeccable taste.” 

“Don’t I?” Warlock agreed, “where’s Adam?” 

“He’ll be over shortly,” Ezra replied, “he was just finishing his dinner.” 

Warlock nodded. “Well, adults are boring, tell him to meet me upstairs when he gets here. Nice to see you, Ezra.” 

Crowley had seemed about ready to protest, but eventually just shook his head and sighed. “I suppose as far as children are concerned, we would be boring.” 

“I suppose so,” Ezra agreed. 

“Come on in, I’ve got the wine poured already, you look exhausted. Are you even going to make it to midnight?” 

“I’m amazingly resilient, for an older model, Crowley,” Ezra replied. 

“Don’t call yourself old, it means I am too, and someday, someone is going to expect me to start acting my age. I can’t even  _ pretend _ to do that if people know how old I  _ actually _ am,”

“You’re younger than me, aren’t you?” Ezra asked, raising an eyebrow. 

“Yeah, by less than a year, Ezra.” Crowley replied, pushing a glass of wine into Ezra’s hand. “Trust me, I’m not ready for you to be calling yourself old.” 

Ezra was about to respond when Adam walked in. “Hello!” 

“Hello, Happy New Years! Warlock is upstairs, Adam,” Crowley called from the kitchen. 

“Happy New Years to you as well!” Adam replied, and then Ezra heard him racing up the stairs. 

Ezra smiled. “Alright, alright, I’ve gotten the message, I won’t call myself old just yet,” he agreed, and sipped the wine he had been handed. “Oh, this one is truly divine, Crowley!” 

“I know,” Crowley said, a smug grin on his face. “Trust me, they  _ all _ are tonight. I might have broken the rules a little bit, but it  _ is _ New Years, which for adults is basically a holiday made for drinking, among other adult activities.” 

“I suppose you have a point,” Ezra conceded, “although I must confess I may have been more comfortable not knowing that.” 

“Oops,” Crowley said, sipping his wine. “Well, cat’s out of the bag now, I believe I have someone that I’m meant to introduce you to,” he decided, and stepped out of the kitchen without another word. 

Ezra followed him to Pretzel’s tank. Crowley regarded her, a curious look on his face. “How are you feeling today? You’re looking alright, that’s a good sign.” 

Slowly, he lifted the lid off the tank and placed a hand inside. 

The spotted ball python contemplated his outstretched fingers, but didn’t make to nip at them or shy away, so Crowley scooped her gently out of the tank and placed her in Ezra’s arms. “Got her? Just don’t poke at her head, she doesn’t like it.”

There was a lot of snake to hold onto. He had known that Pretzel was large, but he hadn’t quite realized  _ how _ large until she was gathered up in his arms, tongue flickering lazily out, brushing his hand. “I think so?” 

To be safe, Crowley kept his hands ready to grab Pretzel until Ezra looked a little more comfortable with her in his arms. “She likes you,” he remarked after a few minutes. “She’s not normally fond of strangers, you, she doesn’t seem to mind.”

Pretzel actually seemed quite relaxed, all thirty-nine inches of her gathered a little awkwardly between Ezra’s hands, although Ezra looked like he wasn’t quite sure that he had a good hold of her as she moved in his grip. 

“Don’t worry too much about where she’s going, she’s gotten out into this room before and while getting her out from under the cabinets can be a pain and a good way to get bit, she won’t get hurt if she gets to the ground for a little while, and she’s likely to nip at you or get more annoyed if you try to catch her when you aren’t familiar with doing so,” Crowley instructed. 

Ezra nodded. After a few more moments, Pretzel had mostly settled herself in his arms, coiled around one of his arms and nose buried in the crook of Ezra’s elbow. Ezra’s thumb gently stroked along the smooth scales that were still in his hand.

“She’s very sweet,” Ezra said, smiling down at her. 

“Oh, she’s sure got you fooled  _ now,” _ Crowley laughed, “she can be a right terror when she wants to be, especially since she got bigger. Then again, she has a harder time hiding in all the same spots now.”

“How old is she?” Ezra asked. 

“Nine, just like everything else around here. She’s got a good ten or twenty more years to go now, but at least she’s fully grown now. She used to have a much easier time sneaking out and around,” Crowley replied. 

“So she doesn’t get any bigger than this?” 

“No, this is her full size,” Crowley confirmed, “she’s not like her wild cousins who reach twenty or thirty feet.” 

Ezra nodded. “She’s certainly big, and heavy.” 

Sensing that Ezra was unsure of what to do with Pretzel, Crowley held out his hands. 

Ezra carefully maneuvered Pretzel back into Crowley’s arms, who carefully placed her back in her tank. Her tongue flicked at the glass. 

Crowley closed the cage and brought Ezra back into the kitchen to wash his hands before taking him to sit in the living room. “So, what were you up to today, Ezra?” 

“Oh, you know, not much. Taking care of some of those post-Christmas bills, cleaning up the shop. We reopen in a couple of days.”

Crowley nodded. “Of course,” he agreed. “same goes here, although I expect I won’t see that high of sales until Valentine’s day.  _ Everyone _ wants flowers on Valentine's Day, from teenagers with acne to married men who walk in wanting two bouquets of roses and look at me like I don't know exactly why that is." 

"You've sold multiple bouquets to the same man?" 

"And to the same woman, a sale's a sale, Ezra, and roses go up in price around Valentine's Day. No way I'm going to pass up the chance to sell someone two bouquets of roses just because one is going to a mistress. Besides,  _ sometimes  _ it  _ must  _ be consensual, this isn't the nineteen-fifties. Imagine how business would suffer if I refused to sell multiple bouquets to a customer in a polyamorous relationship!" 

"I suppose you have a point," Ezra conceded. 

"I always have a point. More wine?"

"If you wouldn't mind." 

Crowley took the empty wine glass from Ezra's hand and walked back into the kitchen. 

Contemplated the first bottle he had poured from, but he'd been drinking it while he was cooking and all that was left was a few swallows. He poured that into his glass and took out a new bottle of red for Ezra.

There was a nice champagne chilling in the fridge, and sparkling apple cider for the boys, but that was for later. 

And Ezra could rest assured, it was one of the  _ cheapest  _ champagnes Crowley kept in his repertoire. But it  _ was  _ champagne. 

He walked back into the sitting room. "This is a new one, I  _ may  _ have been at the other bottle a little heavy while I was cooking today and this was all that was left," he explained, swirling the wine in his glass around. 

"You were drinking while you cooked?" Ezra laughed. 

"Always. Speaking of cooking, I did make quite a lot of little appetizers and stuff like that, they're all staying warm in the oven. If you're hungry, let me know," Crowley advised. 

"I just ate supper before walking over," Ezra confessed, "so I'm not particularly hungry." 

"Well, it's all keeping warm in the kitchen unless Warlock brings Adam down here to raid it, so if you do get peckish, let me know." 

“I most certainly will,” Ezra agreed. 

Eventually, it was Crowley himself who had to admit that he was the one who got peckish first, and did find that the boys had indeed been raiding the trays in the stove, and he needed to have a word with Warlock later on about finishing all of one of the pot stickers and leaving all the ones he didn’t like for someone else. They had made a variety so that  _ everyone _ got a variety, after all.

That said, he wasn’t as annoyed as he may have been, given that Warlock’s favoure was actually one that he liked the least. 

Still, that was hardly the point. Crowley pulled the potstickers out of the oven, arranged them on a tray and carried them into the sitting room where Ezra was waiting. 

Crowley could hear the boys playing  _ Mario Kart  _ upstairs, a game that Warlock refused to play with him, given that his experience with driving literal getaway cars made him about as good as genuine driving experience could make you in the game, when it was played on a Wii. 

So he did have a tendency to be better than Warlock at it, and it annoyed Warlock to no end. 

He smiled. "Well, I would say it's been a fairly good year," he remarked, "unlike some of the ones that I've been eager to toast away." 

"There's always a nightmare year every couple of years," Ezra agreed, "but this one was most pleasant, even if the last six months came as a complete surprise to me." 

"Adam seems to like you better now," Crowley remarked. 

"I don't want to jinx it, but I do believe I noticed that too," Ezra agreed, "at the very least, he doesn't openly resent me." 

"That's as good as any progress!" Crowley said with a grim, holding out his wine glass for a toast. 

"And what about you? What in specific made this a good year for you?" Ezra asked. 

Crowley smiled. "Every year since I parted ways with those old friends of mine, I get more reasons to be happy that I'm not in that crowd anymore. It was  _ hard  _ to get out, but each year since then gets better, and this one is no exception. Thanks in no small part to the new neighbour," he replied. 

"Flatterer."

"Seriously though, I do mean it. Nine years ago I couldn't imagine a life where I was clean and out of trouble. Now I can't imagine life if I had never left. Nine years ago I was in no fit state to be looking after a kid, or to run my own business, and the only friends I had were crooks." 

Ezra was quiet for a moment. "I'm glad you agreed to tell me, as shocking as it was." 

"You were right. As soon as you were involved, you had a right to know," Crowley replied. 

Besides, it wasn't like Crowley had told him the  _ real  _ reason he had left, or the  _ real  _ reason he had Warlock. 

"Anthony! It's almost midnight!" Warlock informed him, running into the sitting room with Adam in tow. 

Crowley glanced at the clock. "Quite right you are, Warlock. I expect you two will be wanting your cider, and Ezra, I have champagne in the fridge for the two of us." 

"Oh, you really didn't have to-"

"I'm delighted to," Crowley said firmly. "Let me go get the drinks and flutes and we'll all have our drinks before midnight." 

Crowley walked back into the sitting room a few minutes later with four champagne flutes, the bottle of sparkling cider, and the champagne he had picked for Ezra and himself. 

"Can I open it?" Warlock asked. 

"Shoot the cork into the windows and it comes out of your allowance," Crowley warned, but handed the bottle over to him anyways. "Care to do the honours, Ezra, or shall I?" 

"Oh, you do it, I couldn't possibly."

Crowley nodded and carefully popped off the top of the bottle of champagne, allowed it to bubble over a little, and then poured two glasses. 

Then he helped Warlock get the cork out of the cider and poured that too. He managed to get all the flutes handed out just before the clock struck midnight. 

"Happy New Year!" Warlock shouted over everyone else, holding his cider up to cheers. 

"Happy New Years," Crowley agreed, delicately tapping his glass into Warlock's, and then everyone else's in turn. 

The boys ran back up the stairs before they even reached 12:01, not that Crowley expected much else. 

"And of course I had to do champagne, it seems like the only New Year's tradition you and I are going to get."

"Been a long time since anyone wanted a kiss from me, much less on New Year's," Ezra agreed, "I've been stuck ringing in the New Year with pots and pans." 

"We have noisemakers most years, but the same goes here," Crowley agreed. 

They both stared at each other for a moment after that. 

"That doesn't… have to be the case this year," Crowley said finally, although he instantly regretted it.

"What are you saying?" 

"Nevermind, it was stupid-"

"Because if you're suggesting we break the streak and be each other New Year's Eve kiss, I think I would enjoy that very much." 

Embarrassingly, Crowley had never moved as fast in his life as he did when he closed the gap between himself and Ezra. 

He was only reassured by the fact that Ezra moved just as quickly to meet him in the middle. 


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crowley and Ezra go on a date, Warlock and Adam discuss what their guardians are doing while they're at Brian's.

Crowley had been rather insistent that they go for a _proper_ date after the events that transpired on New Year's Eve, and that it happened before they told the boys anything.

Ezra could see the logic in not telling them at all. They shouldn't get their hopes up, it was a new relationship. Well founded, true, but still very, very new, and children could get carried away, especially if Warlock and Adam sniffed the possibility of them becoming siblings.

Ezra, on the other hand, wasn't exactly in a financial position to go out to dinner, and didn't know how to admit to that without sounding pathetic, so he had agreed against his better judgement. He was just going to need to keep his eye on the price tag. 

He _knew_ that if Crowley knew that money was tight he would offer to pay, but needing to ask that for their first date made Ezra feel worse than if he had to watch his budget all night.

It was easy to say that he was dreading the night even before he left to drop Adam off at Brian’s house. Brian’s parents had agreed to put up both children for the night, so hopefully they remained none the wiser about _why_ their guardians were dropping them off for the evening. Those questions might be difficult to answer if both insisted on keeping their involvement a secret.

Then he got himself back home, looked himself skeptically over in the mirror, decided that there was nothing wrong with him that he had time to fix, so he kept his eye nervously on the clock. 

Crowley had said he’d pick Ezra up at seven o’clock. It was currently 6:50, and to say Ezra was jittery about the first date he’d gone on in several years was an understatement. 

He checked his wallet. 

He’d been forced to pay his bills on credit, so his credit card was overdrafted, but he still did have a bit of cash on him. Hopefully it was enough. 

But he had sold three books today, and none of the three had been cheap specimens, the most expensive setting its new owner back nearly two hundred pounds, and that would have to be enough to pay up the credit card. 

It still didn’t leave a lot of money for this date. Not to mention, Adam had grown over the winter, and all of his trousers were now too short. Ezra was only hoping that they would do until it was warm enough for the boy to wear shorts, and they could push back getting new trousers until next fall. 

There was a knock at the door. Ezra did his best to swallow down his jitters, straightened his coat and went to open it. 

Crowley was leaned up against the brick wall protecting the doorway from the wind. 

He handed Ezra a bouquet with a smirk. “I think how easy they are for me to get might negate the thought a little bit, but I figured I would still bring them. It _is_ traditional to bring flowers to your date, after all.” 

Ezra took the bouquet gratefully, gave them a sniff. “Oh, Crowley, they’re _lovely_ , although I haven’t got the foggiest how I’ll convince Adam these weren’t from you,” he laughed. 

“Eh, I doubt he’ll even question them,” Crowley replied. 

“I’m sure you’re right. I’ll get these in some water, and then I imagine we had best be off!” Ezra said, doing his best to smile. 

Crowley seemed to notice that he wasn’t being entirely genuine, but didn’t say anything about it. “Car’s waiting outside,” he confirmed. 

Ezra had yet to get a look at the inside of Crowley’s car, and had to confess that as nervous about this date as he was, he was rather intrigued to see Crowley’s full restoration job. He hurriedly filled a vase for the flowers, glanced at them yet again

They were bright and colourful, clearly would have needed to be shipped in from somewhere warmer than London, or grown in a greenhouse. He didn’t recognize the blooms, though they were wide and fragrant. 

“Gerbera daisies. I thought roses might be a little _too_ traditional,” Crowley explained from where he stood by the door. 

“They’re beautiful, Crowley, thank you,” Ezra said with a smile. 

“My pleasure. Shall we?” 

Ezra felt a blush tinge his cheeks when Crowley offered out his arm to escort Ezra out to the car. “Where did you learn to be such a gentleman?” 

“Catholic school,” Crowley replied, “might have gotten kicked out of the church, but not the school. Had to wear a right stuffy uniform and everything. No sweaters for us, I’m lucky the coats didn’t have _tails.”_

“I’m having trouble picturing you in a school uniform,” Ezra admitted. 

“Well, it happened.”

“Did you have short hair?” 

“No, but I had to keep it up or I think one of the teachers would have cut it with a pair of school scissors,” Crowley replied. 

Ezra laughed at the thought. Crowley pulled open the passenger’s door for him, helped him into his seat. 

The car _was_ almost nicer on the inside than it was on the outside, with soft, buttery leather seats and a gleaming interior. Crowley climbed in on the driver’s side and fired up the car. 

The engine purred, and Crowley smiled before dropping it into gear and punching the gas. The car jumped to life, and Ezra found himself clinging to the handle by the door.

The only strange thing was, while Ezra was still not quite knowledgeable about rock bands, he could have sworn that the whole way there, the car played nothing but Queen. 

The restaurant was not busy, and it was chosen intentionally by Ezra, given it had good food and could be enjoyed while on a budget. 

Even so, Ezra was still nervous about the spending. Even if he currently _did_ have a small amount of cash, what if something important came up and he had spent it on dinner? He deliberated for a long time before finally making an order, trying to keep the meal total below what he had in his wallet. 

If Crowley noticed, he didn’t say anything, just placed his own order and looked around the restaurant. 

It was well-lit, Ezra’s date had been forced to keep his sunglasses on indoors, but it was a nice place, and always smelled _amazing._ “I see that _I_ might get to pick champagne, but I should leave _you_ in charge of restaurants,” he remarked, “this place is lovely.” 

Ezra nodded. “Yes, quite.”

Crowley was quiet for a moment, but thankfully didn’t comment on how distracted Ezra was, preoccupied by how this meal was going to throw off his finances for the month. 

“Been a dog’s age since I’ve been on a date,” Crowley admitted, smiling a little. “Not since I was considerably younger.” 

“I can’t say they’ve been a common occurrence in my life, either,” Ezra confessed. 

“Handsome man like you? I find that hard to believe,” Crowley said, with a wolfish smile. “I’d imagine everyone was coming calling at your door.” 

Ezra went to protest until it occurred to him that Crowley was flirting.

“You already have me on a date, Crowley, you needn’t keep buttering me up _now,”_ Ezra admonished. 

“But where’s the fun in that?” Crowley asked with a smile. 

Ezra was about to reply when a waiter walked over with their meals, set them down before them. He hadn’t noticed what Crowley had ordered, but now he could smell it, some form of roast that smelled spicy and delicious. 

Ezra himself had a pasta, which he loved, although he had to admit he had come across several more pricey items on the menu that he had been tempted to try. 

Still, he twirled a bite on his fork and stuck it in his mouth. 

Crowley looked at his plate with a fond smile. “You might as well take some of this now, there’s no way I’m going to eat all of it myself,” he mentioned, “we both know I don’t eat.” 

Then why were they out for dinner? Ezra had to admit that Crowley’s remark frustrated him a little. He was fretting over how he was going to pay for this meal, and Crowley barely ever ate, they both could have done something else and caused him much less stress. 

Almost immediately, Ezra felt guilty for being frustrated. Crowley had simply wanted them to go on a _date,_ it wasn’t his fault that this was going to be difficult to pay for. Ezra could have suggested something other than dinner if he had really been so bothered. 

Ezra looked up from his meal to see Crowley contemplating him again, concern plain on his face.

"You don't seem like you're enjoying yourself, angel. Did I do something wrong? Is it the food?" He asked nervously. He started glancing around, as though to spot whatever was amiss.

"No, you've been lovely it's just-” Ezra didn’t want to tell him, not really, but after how he had gotten with Crowley about his old friends, he thought he likely owed him the truth. He sighed in defeat. “Money has been tight since Christmas,” he admitted, voice quieting although he knew Crowley heard him perfectly.

"Then it's my treat,” Crowley said immediately.

"Crowley, you know how I feel about that,” Ezra said with a sigh, he had known that offer was coming, but had nonetheless hoped it wouldn’t.

"Ezra, the flower shop is _not_ what made me _this_ financially well off. I have ill-gotten gains socked away, _please_ allow me to do something nice with them, rather than just spend them on wine I drink by myself?" Crowley asked, “honest, if you think about it that way, you’re doing me a favour. Bad enough I have them, but spending them for purely selfish reasons? I would much rather treat you, if you’ll let me.”

Ezra was quiet for a moment. 

"I'm just not comfortable with you paying for everything, Crowley. Money isn't as expendable to me as it is to you, and watching you spend it _on_ me makes me uncomfortable,” he explained, shifting a little in his seat.

Crowley nodded, seeming a little lost in thought, trying to reconcile his frivolous spending with Ezra's point of view. "Well, I'll tell you what. I'll buy this time, and when you're in a better situation, you can get me back if you feel the need. Really, you _don’t_ need to, but if you’ll feel more comfortable if you do, you’re welcome to.”

Ezra supposed he could live with that. "I feel as though this talk about finances has somewhat killed the mood," he said sadly. 

Crowley's gaze was impossibly soft from across the small table, the lighting making it _just_ possible for Ezra to see his honey-gold eyes from beneath his sunglasses.. "Angel, I'm just glad you feel comfortable enough with me to tell me when the things I do make you uncomfortable, and I _swear_ I will find the line between spoiling you like I want to and keeping you comfortable and stay well on the right side of it, if maybe I don’t get it right immediately. But for tonight, just let me handle it. I'm the one who insisted we go on this date, after all. If you like me enough to go for a second, we’ll plan something more budget-friendly, I promise.”

Ezra felt himself flush a little, this time not from the idea of being accommodated, but from how Crowley plainly stated that he not only was hoping for another date, but wanted to ‘spoil’ him, as though they were secondary school sweethearts. “I’m fairly sure another date is on the table,” he said finally.

“There’s a nice park I’ve been meaning to tell you about. It’s a little out of the way for a winter, it’s better in the summer, since it’s a bit of a hike to get there by foot, but it _is_ lovely, and there’s a few good spots for feeding the ducks. Maybe we could… go for a picnic. No need for dining at the Ritz, I just want to spend time with you.”

Ezra blushed even more. “It sounds lovely, my dear boy.” 

“Then I guess it’s a date, angel!”

Their second date was planned even before the end of their first. Ezra might have still had a couple of misgivings with Crowley, but it seemed they weren’t getting in the way of his dating decisions.

Crowley didn't say anything else about it, just cut his piece of roast in half, placed one half on Ezra's plate, and stole a bite of his pasta when Ezra looked about to protest. "If you don't want it, I'll take it home. But you _are_ my foodie boyfriend, so I thought you might want to try it," he said with a wink, before popping the bite of pasta into his mouth. 

"Well, I _was_ hoping to have a taste," Ezra admitted, looking down, suddenly shy. 

"Then it worked out perfectly!" 

“I suppose it would seem that it has,” Ezra agreed. 

Later that night, around 2 am, to be precise, when Ezra checked his pocket watch from where he was seated comfortably in the passenger’s seat of a Bentley that was driving a _little_ slower than before, at his behest, one of Crowley’s hands on the gear shift, and Ezra’s hand over that, it occurred to him that they were going to owe Brian’s parents _quite_ the apology. They hadn’t asked if Adam and Warlock could spend the night, after all, and it was rather too late to go knocking on the door and getting them now. 

And since it was far too late to go and get the boys, there was no point in going home just yet. Sure, at home they could share some wine or something of the sort, but Ezra was quite content cruising around in the Bentley, watching fat, fluffy snowflakes collect on the windscreen, until the wipers would flick up and brush them away. 

That and _talking._ They had been meeting for tea for _months_ now, Ezra had been certain that they would have long since run out of things to talk about, but it had been hours since they left the restaurant and they were still laughing over each other’s stories. Crowley’s came mostly from the recent past, since he adopted Warlock and moved to Soho, but Ezra supposed he could understand why, with the childhood he clearly didn’t like to discuss, and the time spent with the old friends he had explained back in December. 

It just made Ezra decide fondly that he was looking forward to living stories that Crowley would be willing to talk about later.

“Do you know why Anthony and Ezra dropped us off here, Warlock?” Adam asked, stepping in the door to Brian’s house. 

Warlock smiled deviously. “Oh, isn’t it obvious? They’re going on a _date,”_ he replied.

Adam gaped at the boy. “You’re serious?” 

“Of course I am! They’ve been making eyes at each other for _months,_ don’t tell me you haven’t noticed! God, Anthony doesn’t go for evening tea with _all_ of the neighbours, in case you haven’t noticed, that’s an Ezra exclusive thing.”

Adam started giggling. “I was just bugging Ezra about that the other day!” He cried. “Back on New Years Eve when Ezra asked if I wanted to come over here.” 

“Oh, they totally snogged on New Years,” Warlock predicted.

“Who snogged on New Years?” Brian asked, leaning over from where he was sitting. 

“Anthony and Ezra,” Warlock said, with a matter-of-fact tone. 

“How do you know?” Pepper asked, popping up from where she had been hiding behind the couch. 

“Found you!” Wensleydale called, pointing at both Pepper and Brian. 

“Oh, hush Wensley, we’re not playing hide-and-seek anymore, we’re _gossiping,_ ” Pepper scolded, “Adam and Warlock’s dads snogged on New Year’s Eve.” 

“Ezra is not my dad,” Adam said mildly, “so _not_ our dads. Our guardians. Besides, Crowley’s not _always_ Warlock’s dad, remember?” 

“He was when I left the house with him though,” Warlock mentioned, “so that’s as good an indication as we can get without him saying otherwise.”

“Still, Ezra is _not_ my dad. My parents both died in a fire.” 

There was a moment of silence in the group, like there always was if Adam’s parents were brought up. 

Pepper was the one to break it. “Fine then, Warlock and Adam’s _guardians_ snogged on New Year’s Eve.”

“Yeah, but don’t tell them that we know! Look how much they were trying to hide that this was a date tonight!” 

“You’re here because they’re on a date?” Brian asked, eyes wide. 

“You two could wind up being brothers!” Pepper cried. 

“Actually, they would be stepbrothers, Pepper,” Wensleydale corrected, and Pepper huffed. 

“Same idea! Do you think they would all move into the bookshop, or the flower shop?” Pepper asked. 

“Flower shop,” Wensleydale said, at the same time that Brian said, “bookshop.” They immediately started bickering over who was right. 

“Guys, they’re going on a first date and they didn’t even _tell_ us about it! We’re nowhere near being stepbrothers just yet,” Adam said rationally. 

“I’ve always wanted a brother,” Warlock admitted, “but Anthony wasn’t having any of that, he only wanted one kid. I _tried_ to convince him that if I had a brother then we would be able to entertain ourselves more easily, but it was not happening.”

“You don’t want a sibling, Warlock, _trust me,”_ Pepper said, “especially not a younger sibling. My sister is a _nightmare.”_

“You were just excited with us about Adam and Warlock being stepbrothers!” 

“That is nowhere near happening!” Adam protested. 

“Aww, do you not want to be brothers?” Warlock giggled. 

“ _Step_ brothers,” Wensleydale said. 

“That’s not what I said!” Adam protested, “now can we _please_ stop talking about our guardians snogging and play a game?”

"Aw, does that bother you? That our guardians are getting together?" 


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crowley gets another visit, Ezra looks after a sick friend.

“I think we should take a seat, Crowley,” Ligur said after he had welcomed himself into Crowley’s house. 

At least this visitor didn’t have a habit of provoking Pretzel. Crowley had just fed her, and she was  _ not _ going to be friendly if someone stuck their hands in the tank today. It had been difficult to convince Bee that just waiting for her to let go was better for both of them than trying to pull her off their arm. 

And of course, Pretzel had decided not to let go that day, and Crowley had gotten to pour vodka on her head before Bee could get their hand around her. 

"And if I disagree?"

"I believe Bee and Hastur have already explained what's at stake to you, Crowley," another voice, one that Crowley knew to be Dagon, replied. 

Crowley huffed and flopped down onto his couch. "I don't get it, Dagon. I thought we all came to the conclusion that I was far better off here with Warlock. The boy still gives you the leverage over me that you need to make sure I don't talk, and you don't have to worry about a loose end."

"We were always going to tie up the loose end from that job, Crowley, you just insisted we do it this way," Ligur corrected. 

"Look, I don't care  _ what  _ got botched on that job, I wasn't just going to sit back and let you kill a kid!" Crowley cried. 

"Yeah, we got that. Remember, it's what made it so that we have to come here and wait for you to get Warlock out of the way to chat?" Dagon said, sneering down at him before she took her seat. “All because you wouldn’t let us get rid of the loose end, and now we have to dance around in this stupid charade. Bee  _ never _ should have let you go.”

“Bee didn’t let me go, remember? Luci did. He agreed that this was a good plan, as long as Warlock stayed in my care,” Crowley said through gritted teeth. “These matters are above both mine and your pay grades.”

Dagon glared daggers at him. He stared directly back at her clear blue eyes. “Fine, you’re right. But these orders are from above Bee, as well, so you’d better listen up,” she snarled. 

Ligur grinned. “That’s right, Crowley. Luci’s ordering this one, too.” 

Crowley groaned and buried his face in his hands. “What are the plans?” He asked, looking back up at the pair in his living room. “You might as well tell me, if I’m going to have to be involved.”

“Luci doesn’t want you to know anything else. He just wants you to drive. Prove you’re still loyal to the right people,” Ligur told him. “We need you to be ready. Ready to drop everything and help out.” 

“I’m a parent, Ligur, if I drop everything I’ll be charged with negligence,” Crowley said dryly. 

He knew better than to try and argue at this point, he wasn’t willing to put Warlock at risk to keep himself out of trouble, there was too much that the boy could never find out. 

Warlock would never forgive him if he found out the truth of the adoption. How could he? How could such a blatant act of cruelty and deception be ignored? How could Warlock possibly forgive him if he ever found out the truth?

Crowley couldn’t imagine a world where Warlock knew the truth. He may not have always been the most optimistic father, true, his adoption of Warlock was more opportunistic than chosen. But now, nine years later, all plans of the future involved Warlock. 

He didn’t  _ want _ anything else in his future than Warlock, and, well, there was one more person who had wormed his way into Crowley’s future, and with him, another child, but he was still too proud to admit that Ezra had become such an integral part of his life. They had only been dating a couple of weeks, Warlock and Adam didn’t even know they were seeing each other. 

“That’s what your curly-haired boyfriend is for, isn’t it?”

“He doesn’t know anything.” 

“Really?” 

“He doesn’t know anything dangerous.  _ He’s _ not dangerous, to you or myself or anyone. I made sure that he doesn’t know enough to get  _ any _ of us into trouble, he only knows that I was involved in some shady activity when I was younger,” Crowley replied. 

“Well, that’s enough for you to be able to leave Warlock with him. I think you’ll be fine. When we come calling, Crowley, don’t you  _ dare _ refuse. I wonder what your new boyfriend would think of what you  _ really _ did with us.” 

“I had nothing to do with what happened that day!” Crowley snapped. “I was in the car the entire fucking time, Ligur and Hastur are the ones who fucked up!” 

Ligur clicked his tongue. “Well, suffice to say it won’t come across that way if we have to tell the eccentric shopkeep across the road. I can think of a few… less flattering ways to tell him about your involvement.  _ You _ were privy to the plan, Crowley,  _ you  _ drove the getaway car, and  _ you’re _ the one who still has the son of the American diplomat, although he doesn’t know who his parents were, aren’t you?”

“You should be grateful, Crowley. This time, Luci sees no reason to inform you of the job. You retain your plausible deniability.” 

“Why pull me in at all? Surely you have other people who can drive the getaway car, Dagon,” Crowley reasoned. 

“This isn’t a job for rookies who don’t work well together. We were the first ones to start up the business, and we’re going to pull it off. It’s a small job, just Hastur, Ligur, Bee, myself and you,” Dagon replied. 

Crowley sighed. “When can I expect to hear from you with specifications, Dagon?” He asked. 

He didn’t have a choice. That was why the arrangement had worked so well for Luci, they had all the leverage. Crowley had no choice but to agree to whatever they ordered.  _ He _ was the one living with the very person who’s existence could put him in prison for the foreseeable future and ruin every plan for the future he had ever dared make. 

Dagon smiled, her teeth seeming a little sharper than before. “Excellent. We’ll call you on this. The job is still in the making, it needs a lot of planning. We’ll contact you when we’re ready.”

Ligur threw a burner phone at Crowley, who caught it easily. He tucked it into his pocket without looking at it, it was standard issue for this group. “So can I go now?” He asked, raising an eyebrow. 

“I think we’ve made our point,” Ligur agreed, “don’t disappoint us, Crowley.” 

And with that, Ligur and Dagon stepped out of the room. Moments later, Crowley heard the door slam. 

He felt like he was going to puke. His chest was tight to the point that he could barely breathe, and he fled on wobbling legs to the washroom, where he collapsed against the sink, barely managing to hold himself up. He wasn’t sure what was happening, his body heaved, he couldn’t tell if it was sobs or his lunch attempting to make a reappearance. 

_ Nothing _ terrified him more than Warlock and Ezra learning the truth. He  _ needed _ them in ways he hadn’t known he would, and if they knew, they would leave him. Both of them. He’d be alone and he would  _ deserve _ it. He would have brought this upon himself. 

He struggled to stand. Ezra was coming over for dinner, although Warlock and Adam were yet again staying with a friend. Not Brian’s family this time, though, they hadn’t been entirely thrilled by the unplanned overnight stay from last time. 

He needed to get cooking, he needed to get himself in check, and he needed to put on a performance that his boyfriend would believe. He needed Ezra to believe that everything was fine. He couldn’t risk Ezra suspecting a  _ thing. _

All he wanted to do was let everything  _ stop. _ Were it not for Ezra’s planned visit, he would readily drink himself into a stupor and fall asleep, and just try to let the world pass him by for as long as he could manage. 

But he had responsibilities. A son, a date. He couldn’t shut down. 

He slowly made his way to the kitchen, poured a stiff glass of scotch to settle his nerves, it was  _ okay _ , things hadn’t fallen apart yet, he was  _ okay, _ everything was going to be fine if he could just keep his cool.

He downed the scotch in one gulp, hardly debated before he poured another. His nerves were not settling, his stomach wouldn’t quell. 

It took him a moment to realize, when he could fully take responsibility for his actions again and wasn’t moving entirely on muscle memory, that his throat was burning and a considerable amount of the bottle had been drunk. 

The second glass had featured far more scotch than the first, and still, nerves unquieted, hands yet to still, Crowley poured a third.

“‘m really sorry, angel.” 

Ezra wondered why Crowley felt the need to feel sorry for being ill. “My dear boy, it’s no trouble at all. We can reschedule, I just hope you’re feeling better soon.” 

“‘m sure I will be, Ezra,” Crowley promised. 

“Just get your rest, dear. Thank you for calling.”

Ezra had never heard Crowley sound so desolate. His voice was croaky and slurring, the poor dear was clearly exhausted. He needed his rest, first and foremost. He needed to be off his feet and lying down somewhere, and Ezra knew just how to arrange that. 

He made his way into the kitchen, pulled out a large pot and some chicken broth, and set about preparing his mother’s chicken soup recipe. 

Maybe the relationship was a little new for Ezra to be making his way across the road to take care of Crowley when he was sick, but he enjoyed the thought of tending to him. 

He finished the soup in a mighty hurry, poured it into a nice glass container to bring it over in. 

Then he tugged on his coat and made his way cheerily across the street, and knocked on the door. 

Crowley looked  _ terrible. _ His eyes were red and glassy, sallow and sunken in and only half-open. His clothes were rumpled, his hair a fright, and he seemed unsteady on his feet. “Ezra?” 

“Well, you told me that date night was off, but I thought I might come over and look after you, dear. You go lay down on the couch, I’ll bring you some soup, unless you’ve already eaten?”

Crowley shook his head. “Don’t have to, Ezra,” he said quietly. 

“I would like to look after you. Now, have you eaten dinner? Do you feel up for it?” 

Crowley shook his head again, so Ezra opted to escort him to the sitting room and lay him down on the couch. 

Something was off, though.

“Crowley, you smell…  _ drunk,” _ Ezra remarked, frowning a little. “Did you  _ make _ yourself sick to avoid our date?”

“No! No, ‘swear angel, didn’t want to fuck up the date,” Crowley assured him, trying to sit up and failing. 

As frustrating it was that Crowley hadn’t told him the truth of  _ why _ he was sick, Ezra believed him. “What happened, my dear boy?” 

“Had a visit again,” Crowley said softly, “freaked me out. Was tryin’ to settle m’ nervesss so I could cook dinner. Didn’t work.”

Ezra’s anger faded slowly back down his throat as he sat on the edge of the couch, beside where Crowley was sprawled across it. It wasn’t so long ago that Crowley would have refused to tell him anything about the situation, he was grateful to be told the truth of the matter. ”Why didn’t you just tell me you were drunk and in no fit state for have dinner?”

“Didn’t want to disappoint you.”

Ezra supposed he could understand that. “Right, well, I think a different kind of tending is probably important. Have you had any water?”

“Water?”

“I’m going to take that as a no,” Ezra decided. He picked up the tumbler that was beside the couch and still had a swallow of amber scotch in it. “I’ll get you some, and put this away.”

Crowley frowned. “You’re not mad at me?” 

Ezra smiled softly. He had hoped Crowley would ask that, just so he would have the chance to explain. “Well, I don’t know many people who enjoy being lied to, truth be told, but I’m  _ not _ angry with you. I understand why you’re sick, and even why you wouldn’t want to tell me the truth about why. But I do wish you would trust me with the truth more often, Crowley. I would have understood why you were in no shape for visitors. Now, we will discuss this further when you’re sober, but right now you’re quite intoxicated and it’s not time to have a serious conversation.”

Crowley stared up at him in amazement. “‘M sorry, angel,” he said quietly. 

“Do you want me to stay with you, Crowley? I’ll stay if you want, make sure you drink some water and get some sleep,” Ezra offered, “I’ll even convince Warlock that you really are sick when he gets home. After all, I’m in no danger of catching what you’ve got.” 

“Y’ don’t have to,” Crowley replied, “really am ssorry, Ezra.”

“I know you are, dear. And I’m going to take that to mean that you want me to stay but don’t want to ask me to. Let me go get some water and aspirin, and I’ll be here the whole time.”

Crowley nodded, and Ezra stepped out of the room to fetch a glass of water. 

What could they have said to have rattled Crowley this badly? Ezra had to admit that now that he knew what was wrong, it was concern that filled him now, concern and curiosity. What could his former friends possibly know that would shake him to the core?

Crowley hadn’t moved when Ezra got back into the room, although he had an arm thrown over his eyes. 

Ezra took that as a sign that he should walk over and pull the curtains closed, and flick off the lights. 

“Th’ks, angel,” Crowley groaned, moving his arm away from his eyes. “Alwaysss did like those windows but…. Ssso bright…”

The over-enunciated ‘s’ which Ezra had learned was a speech impediment after all got worse when Crowley had been drinking. Part of Ezra found it endearing.

“I may not want to discuss this with you yet, or grow angry with you, but I do want to say one thing. You are an  _ idiot, _ you know that? You didn’t have to get drunk to settle your nerves, either. You could have told me you were in no state for dinner, I saw the unfamiliar car outside your house.” Ezra said, handing Crowley his sunglasses off the coffee table. 

Crowley fit them over his face and likely finally opened his eyes. 

“Drink this, Crowley, and take this,” Ezra placed an aspirin in his hand, and a glass in the other. 

Crowley threw the pill into his mouth and gulped down some of the water. 

Ezra sighed and sat back down next to him. “Do you want to tell me what they said to you?” He asked, placing a hand on Crowley’s shoulder. 

Crowley shook his head adamantly. “Jusst know it was bad, angel,” he murmured, “really, really, really bad. We’ll be in a lot of trouble if… if I don’t do what they tell me to.” 

“They’re blackmailing you?” Ezra gasped. 

“Sssort of,” Crowley agreed, head lolling a little to the side. “Angel, I don’t want to talk about it,” he said softly. 

Ezra supposed he could understand that. “You’d tell me if you or I or the kids were in danger, wouldn’t you?” 

“Of courssse,” Crowley said quickly, wrapping both hands around the one Ezra had resting on his shoulder. “I’ll never let you or Adam or Warlock get hurt for my misstakes.”

“And yourself?”

“I’m of more use to them alive and able,” Crowley whispered. Let out a little chuckle. “Even nine years out, I’m more use alive and able. I made them sswear to leave me be.”

Ezra felt a pang of pity for Crowley. He had made errors as a young man that were still haunting him today. Ezra couldn’t imagine a world where his decisions from when he was eighteen still plagued him with trouble. 

“When they call, will you take Warlock until I get back?” Crowley asked suddenly. 

“What do you mean, dear boy?”

Crowley took a deep breath. “They’re going to call on me for a job. Can’t ssay no. Will you watch over Warlock when it happens, until I get back? There’s no one else I can trussst.” 

“Of course,” Ezra agreed, although he was still plenty shocked by the request. 

Of course, it  _ made _ sense. If Crowley was going to be forcibly pulled back in, even if only for one job, then someone would need to take care of Warlock until he got back from it. “This is it, right Crowley? You do this and they leave you alone?”

“They’ll never pull me back in again. It’s a one-time job, Ezra, my life of crime is supposssed to be behind me.”

“These people sound a lot more dangerous than you made them out to be. A lot more organized.” 

“Didn’t want to scare you, angel,” Crowley replied, “thought I might chassse you away if you knew I used to be dangerouss.”

“Did you really get rid of the gun you had, Crowley?” Ezra asked. 

Crowley hesitated for a moment. He didn’t seem to want to tell Ezra the truth, or answer him at all, which gave Ezra a pretty good idea of what the answer was. “No,” he said finally, “but I will as soon as the job is done and they tell me I can go. For now, I still need  _ sssomething _ in the house to defend us with.”

"You're sure Warlock won't find it again? I suppose I can understand why you insist on having it, but Warlock should  _ not  _ have access to it." 

"It's in a safe behind that sketch. He doesn't know the ssafe is there,” Crowley replied, “he didn’t have accessss to the drawer, either. ‘Wear the key, just left it unlocked after cleaning it.”

Ezra looked over at the sketch of the Mona Lisa. "This is still all rather frightening," he admitted. 

Crowley stared up at him intensely through his black sunglasses. "I'm going to take care of it, Ezra. I promissse." 

Ezra believed him. He lifted Crowley’s hands and pressed them to his lips. “Good. Now let’s make sure Warlock can’t tell you’ve been drinking when he gets home.”


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A museum date goes off without many hitches, the boys confront their guardians.  
> Cover Art:  
> https://closetosomethingreal-1337.tumblr.com/post/619681676788989953/a-modern-way-of-living-with-the-truth-ezra-fell

No one had called, and the longer the burner phone went without ringing, the more worried Crowley got.

He kept it in his pocket at all times. There was no way that he could risk missing their phone call.

It was even on him now, in the middle of the British Museum with Ezra. Ezra knew it was there, Crowley checked it almost incessantly. He was never questioned on it, Ezra knew he was afraid of what would happen if he didn’t answer when called, although Crowley had still refused to tell him what it was that would happen.

Ezra was looking over some relic or another, to be completely honest Crowley had been lost since he walked in the door and had no idea which gallery they were in now, he had let Ezra pull him around from artefact to artefact.

He smiled fondly at his date, pouring over the description of the item behind the glass walls.

The text in the museum was far too small for Crowley to read, the bright lights made him keep his sunglasses on full-time. “Care to enlighten me, angel?” He asked, leaning up against the metal railing and peering into Ezra’s green eyes. “Can’t read a thing in here.”

Ezra’s face fell when Crowley said that. “I’m sorry, dear, I never considered that, I just thought it was a good idea for a free date and-”

“It’s fine, Ezra, it’s not like I can’t see the exhibits, just can’t read the teeny-tiny descriptions. I’m quite enjoying myself, don’t worry,” Crowley assured him. “When I bring Warlock, I make him read the descriptions I’m interested in. Made for some curious pronunciations while he was still learning to read.”

“Well, I could certainly read them out loud to you, if you’re interested,” Ezra suggested, “I just may need more water than I have in my water bottle.”

“Sounds good to me, angel,” Crowley agreed, leaning in and kissing Ezra on the cheek.

Ezra blushed.

Crowley liked almost nothing more than making Ezra blush as much and as often as possible, he was simply too cute when he did.

He was growing used to the gentle familiarity he and Ezra had formed, slowly but surely.

His constant ability to make Ezra blush was one of his favourites of the newfound familiarity.

Familiarity like this had never particularly been his scene. Dates and romance and all of that fluffy sort of stuff was not really the way he had operated, even as a teenager when he was busy seducing both of the priest’s two kids his age. It had been quick and messy and unromantic and really just means to an end both parties were interested in.

But he fair thought that he liked this better.

Ezra began reading aloud from the description he had been looking over, but Crowley admittedly wasn’t paying too much attention to what he said. He peered at the chess set that Ezra was admiring.

The pieces looked nothing like the modern-day chess set he was slowly teaching Warlock to play, with actual faces carved into each of the pieces.

Neither Warlock nor himself were particularly good at chess, although Crowley had quickly learned that both of them were excellent cheats.

He supposed it was interesting, and tuned back into Ezra’s description, listening to his pleasant voice going through a description that despite the items’ notoriety, Crowley had never asked Warlock to read.

“Are you listening, Crowley?” Ezra asked suddenly, a smirk on his face. “You seem distracted.”

“I’m listening, Ezra. You have a much nicer voice than the man who read that audiobook you gave me, although I did finish it the other day. It was pretty funny!”

Ezra’s smile suggested that he was tucking that information away for later. Crowley couldn’t help but wonder for what.

“I thought you might enjoy that one, Crowley, I’ll have to look around for another one for you,” Ezra said with a smile.

“Well, if you’re always so good at choosing out books, I think I’ll probably enjoy that one, too,” Crowley said with a smile. “Have you been here before?”

“When I was young, yes, with my family, but not recently. I keep meaning to take Adam here, but I haven’t had the chance. I do love museums,” Ezra replied.

“I’ll have to remember that. Bit of a history buff, are we?” Crowley asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Always.”

Crowley smiled to himself at the thought.

History had been one of his favourite subjects, it was ironic to wind up dating someone with that interest in common, even if he was never going to share Ezra's interest in reading, with his inability to focus on little words with the lights being low enough not to give him a migraine.

He could feel the bright like filtering through his glasses, and mixed with the noise and the hustle and bustle of the museum he knew that a migraine was going to start gnawing on his temples soon, but he had taken a painkiller a few minutes ago when he had first realized, and was hoping it wouldn't get so bad that he had to make Ezra drive them home.

He was fairly sure that Ezra had his license, but fairly sure wasn't a guarantee, and he really preferred not to let anyone drive his car if he got the choice.

Besides, he had more reasons than that to hope that the migraine wouldn't be too incapacitating. Despite the fact that he couldn't read the descriptions, he was having a wonderful time with Ezra in the museum and didn't want pain and nausea to ruin that for him.

Not to mention, he had promised to take Warlock out after dinner as well, and he wouldn't be able to do that with a migraine.

"Crowley? Are you alright? You don't look well," Ezra remarked, looking up at him in concern.

"Just a little bright in here, angel, nothing to worry about," Crowley promised, giving him a reassuring smile. "I'm sure I'll be fine."

"Are you sure? We can come back another time, I don't mind," Ezra said quickly, looking concerned.

"I'll let you know if it gets too bad," Crowley said.

Ezra seemed satisfied with that answer. He resumed his reading of descriptions, moving on from the chessmen to something else in a nearby display case.

Crowley took a deep breath and followed after him.

Ezra was very good at taking people on a complete tour of museums. Crowley was fairly sure there were exhibits that he had never happened upon that he saw today, much to Ezra’s amusement. He wrinkled his nose at the medieval displays, he was never sure why but the whole time period, especially the fourteenth century, irked him. He liked to joke with Warlock that he must have lived another life during the fourteenth century and died of the plague or something equally miserable.

Almost all deaths in those times were miserable, after all, it wasn’t a difficult guess that his own would have been, assuming his parents were wrong and reincarnation was a thing, which Crowley thought sounded like  _ much _ more fun than eternity listening to celestial harmonies.

To his relief, his migraine stayed very manageable, so much so that he wouldn’t have to disappoint Warlock, although it was definitely there, making its presence known even through the painkillers he had double-dosed on.

Ezra had looked at him in concern when he had done so, but seemed to assume that Crowley, after all these years of migraines, probably knew what he was doing.

If he hadn’t overdosed on ibuprofen yet, it was unlikely he would. Besides, his body had gone through much worse than a little extra Advil in his life.

So he just gave Ezra a reassuring smile, and continued through the museum. Ezra didn’t bring it up with him. 

They continued through Egypt and other regions of Africa, and through the remainder of the museum until they had to find their way to the exit or risk being late back to be there when Adam and Warlock got back home. 

And it would really be preferable that they get home and settled in  _ before _ Adam and Warlock got dropped off, seeing as how they still had yet to tell the boys about their change in relationship status. Warlock and Adam didn’t need to know that Crowley and Ezra had spent the afternoon out of the house and  _ with each other. _

Not yet.

So Crowley dutifully dropped Ezra off at the bookshop about ten minutes before Adam and Warlock were supposed to be brought home, walked him to the door like a proper gentleman that his mother would be proud of. 

To his surprise, Ezra kissed him goodbye. "It's not like it's a base we haven't made it to yet," he laughed at Crowley's surprised expression. 

That was true, but it didn't mean that Crowley wasn't blushing redder than any of his roses by the time he got back home. 

Ezra had spent a  _ lovely _ afternoon at the museum. 

He only hoped that Crowley had as well. 

He hadn't thought of the logistics of bringing his light-sensitive, prone-to-migraines date to a place full of bright display cases and tiny text to read, and he hoped that Crowley had meant it when he had assured Ezra that he was enjoying himself. 

But there was no real time to dwell on that. Adam would be home any minute, and Ezra needed to get everything he needed to bring with him in order to bring Adam to therapy.

As per Adam’s request, there was still no one else who knew that Adam saw Missus Ashtoreth. No one else needed to know, after all. Adam had a right to privacy, and Ezra would respect it. 

However, it meant Ezra couldn’t ask someone else to drop him off, and as much as he had paperwork to fill and bills to pay, he would have to spend the evening escorting Adam. Eleven was far too young to ride the bus alone. 

So when Adam appeared at the door, Ezra made sure he had eaten something, the appointment went right through their regular dinner time, and immediately bustled them both to the bus stop. 

While they waited for the bus, they watched Warlock and Crowley drive by, easy to spot with the distinct black and grey classic that whizzed passed them at speeds that must have been illegal. 

Yet again, Adam had opted to bring Dog with him, had him bundled in his arms and was stroking the top of his head. Missus Ashtoreth; Lilith, as she insisted Adam and Ezra could call her; quite liked Dog and found pets to be extremely beneficial to children in therapy. 

It had been a strong relief to learn that even in all of his struggle with Adam, he had done something right. 

The bus rolled up, Ezra paid their fair and they boarded the bus. Adam found a place to sit, but Ezra was left standing beside him. 

Dog yapped once and curled up on Adam’s lap. 

“So, Ezra, where were you all afternoon?” Adam asked, looking up and smiling coyly at Ezra. 

“I was at the British Museum,” Ezra said honestly. 

Adam smiled even wider. “And do you think that if Warlock asked Crowley where he was all afternoon, he would say the museum, too?” He asked, raising an eyebrow. 

“What are you saying, Adam?” Ezra asked, frowning down at Adam. 

“Oh, come  _ on, _ Warlock already figured out you were going on a date the  _ first _ time you did!” Adam cried, rolling his eyes. “You might as well just admit it.”

Ezra’s eyes widened. “How did you find out?” He asked, staring down at the boy. 

“So he was right!” Adam cackled, and Dog yapped again. “I wasn’t convinced he was right at first, but he was totally right! Did you also snog on New Years?” 

“I’m not going to tell you that!” Ezra protested, and Adam laughed even harder. 

Others on the bus were starting to take notice of Adam’s exclamations. “Really, my dear boy, you needn’t speak of my dating life as though it were top gossip,” he scolded. 

“Oh, Pepper was right and Warlock and I are going to be  _ siblings!” _

“That is quite enough, Adam, we’re  _ seeing  _ each other, not engaged,” Ezra reminded him. “There’s absolutely no guarantee that we even stay together! There's an equal chance we learn that we were better friends and stop dating entirely, you shouldn’t let your imagination race like this. It  _ is _ why Crowley and I were not going to tell you two just yet.”

“Well, too late for that, Warlock totally knows as well,” Adam said, “so you spent the  _ entire _ afternoon in the museum?”

“Just because you like the Natural History museum more doesn’t mean you can’t spend a long time in the British Museum, Adam. There is more to history than dinosaur bones,” Ezra chided. 

“I know, but none of it is quite as fun!” Adam replied, “besides, I like  _ all _ bones, not just dinosaur bones!” 

“I know you do, Adam. Since you two clearly know we’re seeing each other, maybe next time we won’t get someone to watch you and we’ll just leave you with the fossils in the Natural History museum,” Ezra mused. 

“Are you allowed to leave us by ourselves?” Adam asked. 

“I think you’re old enough to explore a museum without a guardian,” Ezra decided, “although I’m not sure we’ll be going to any museums anytime soon. Crowley has a hard time with the lights.”

Adam nodded. “Well, leaving us in the museum ought to be easier than convincing our friends’ parents to look after us. Brian’s mum is  _ still _ a little cross that you didn’t warn her before you left us there overnight. What  _ were _ you doing, anyways- wait, don’t answer.”

“Adam, we were driving around London, absolutely nothing inappropriate. We just lost track of time,” Ezra replied. 

Adam didn’t look like he particularly believed Ezra, but he did stop pressing, so that was good enough. The bus pulled to a halt at their stop, and Ezra and Adam disembarked from the bus and walked to Missus Ashtoreth’s building. 

He got Adam settled in and promised to be back in an hour as the boy was led into the brightly painted office. 

Then he sent Crowley a text. 

_ The children are onto us, dear. _

It didn’t take long for Crowley to answer. 

_ Ha! So Adam ambushed you too? _

Ezra smiled when he realized the boys must have planned this questioning while they were with their friends. 

_ Indeed he did. _

Ezra tucked his phone back into his pocket, looked up in time to narrowly avoid walking into someone. “I’m so sorry,” he said, quickly stepping out of the way.

The woman seemed almost familiar, with a stern look and dark blond hair tied tightly up in a hairdo Ezra was unfamiliar with. 

She had gold eyeshadow on, it was very thick, and very distracting. It wasn’t a choice Ezra would have encouraged her to make, but who was he to discourage someone’s own sense of style?

“Do I know you?” Ezra asked, frowning. 

“Not that I know of,” the woman replied, “the name’s Detective Michael Archer,” she continued. 

Ezra contemplated the name, but found it didn’t ring any bells. “Ezra Fell,” he said, although he couldn’t imagine it would help.

Strangely, he could have sworn the woman knew that name, but didn’t admit to it. “Can’t say it rings a bell.” 

Ezra brushed aside the feeling that he had seen her before. “Well, sorry for almost walking into you, Detective Archer, “was texting someone and lost track of where I was.” 

Detective Michael Archer smiled. “Special lady?” 

“No, last I checked today he was a special man,” Ezra replied, “but I do understand that’s subject to change, so perhaps.”

Michael seemed to be taking note of that, as well. It almost made Ezra uncomfortable. “Well, I had best be off! I have some errands to run before I have to pick up my son, and I’m sure you’re busy.”

He didn’t give her a chance to answer. He walked away as fast as he could without seeming like he was fleeing.

Something was incredibly  _ off _ about that police detective, and the more Ezra thought about it, the more he was convinced he had seen her before, and it wasn’t on a beat.

Someplace much more sinister. But he couldn’t fathom where that would be. He was newly back in London, and Crowley wasn’t really the sort of acquaintance to have if one wanted to become familiar with the  _ police. _

He shook off the feeling and headed for the grocery store. They were short on essentials, and if Ezra had to be out anyways, he may as well stock up.

As usual, Adam was not in a particularly talkative mood after his session, and Ezra knew better by now than to ask him how it had gone as they rode the bus home. 

Adam was very insistent on not telling Ezra anything discussed with Missus Ashtoreth, and Ezra didn’t bother to protest. He was just glad that  _ someone _ could get him to talk.

Instead, Ezra let the ride pass in silence, and ushered Adam inside when they got home to share the spoils of his shopping. Money was a little less tight this month, and to make up for the fact that this appointment had taken their chance to eat a regular dinner, Ezra had stopped and gotten some pastries for a snack when they got home. 

Adam quickly grabbed the chocolatiest one he could find in the box, one that Ezra had chosen especially for him. 

Ezra himself had a raspberry pastry. 

He had expected Adam to go straight to his room after grabbing the treat, and was mildly surprised when he walked into the sitting room and Adam was sitting at the couch, a board game sitting in his lap. 

“My parents and I used to play this all the time,” he said, almost off-hand, motioning to the Scrabble box. “I was wondering… maybe you would like to play?” 

Ezra was fairly sure his smile could have blinded someone. “My dear boy, I would be delighted.”


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ezra and Crowley go to a church fundraiser, things do not go as planned.

“Crowley, you know you really don’t have to come to this,” Ezra insisted as they were getting ready to leave. “I’ll go by myself, I don’t mind.”

“Excommunicated does  _ not _ mean I get lit on fire if I cross the threshold, Ezra, and this is important to you. Of  _ course _ I’ll come,” Crowley insisted, glancing at their reflection in the mirror in their foyer. “I haven’t smudged this already, have I?” They asked, frowning and poking at their lips.

Ezra gave them a quick look over, pressed a kiss to their red-painted mouth. “Not at all, dear, you look lovely,” he promised. 

Crowley smiled. “Thanks, angel,” they said. 

Ezra suspected that even with his acceptance in October, Crowley may have been a  _ little _ nervous stepping out of the bathroom fully made-up for this church fundraiser. He was making an effort to let his appreciation of the look show to dissuade any of that nervousness.

He also suspected that as much as Crowley looked  _ stunning _ in eyeliner and ruby-red lipstick, this look was  _ partially _ due to the fact that they were going to a church and they wanted to be going against conventional norms. However, he was going to be disappointed, as a gay man, or mostly gay, as Crowley wasn’t always a man, Ezra had made sure he had found a church that didn’t stick to conventional norms. Crowley was not really going to be that out of place.

“Besides, this isn’t even the church I got kicked out of. I think we’ll have a nice time, whether it’s a church function or not,” Crowley continued, slipping on their shoes and offering an arm out to Ezra to escort him out to the car. Ezra laughed as they linked arms. 

“I hope so,” Ezra agreed, looking down at the shoes Crowley had slid into. “You just had to be even taller than me, didn’t you, dear?” He laughed. 

“I’ll have you know that I like these shoes, even if I can’t drive in them. Does it bother you?”

“Not in the slightest, I was making a joke, Crowley,” Ezra assured him as Crowley pulled open the passenger’s door for him, helped him to his seat and then walked around the automobile, hooking off their shoes as they pulled open the driver’s side door and stepped in. They placed their shoes on the ground next to their feet, and started the car, expertly dropping it into gear.

“Where are we going again, angel?” They asked, stepping on the gas with what Ezra knew to be an enormous amount of restraint for their passenger’s benefit. 

“I can give directions.”

“Excellent.”

Ezra was not particularly blessed with knowing when something was wrong, and his first sign that something had happened was when Crowley lurched away from his side, crying out as they hit the ground, hard.

“Crowley!”

Looking down, he could see the problem. There was a patch of water where Crowley had stepped, and it seemed their shoe had slipped out from under them and they had crumpled to the ground, suddenly unsupported. “Are you alright?” He asked, crouching down beside them.

“I… think so?” Crowley replied, slowly sitting up and pulling off their shoes. “Clearly I should save these for somewhere safer,” they murmured, “help me up?”

Ezra immediately helped pull them up onto their feet, but as soon as they tried to step down on the foot that had slipped in the water, they cried out and fell against Ezra, who slowly lowered them back to the ground. 

“Your ankle!”

“It’s nothing, angel,” Crowley said, clearly before they even looked down at their ankle and saw that it was already growing swollen and puffy. “Well, hardly anything.”

“We should get you to emergency to have it looked at!” Ezra insisted, pressing a hand to the side of Crowley’s ankle. Not a second later, they hissed in pain and flinched away.

“Then I’ll feel bad, we  _ did _ just get here, angel. I can wait,” Crowley offered, waving their hand flippantly. “Go get your meal, talk to your friends, I just can’t cling to you and be arm candy like planned!” They laughed, “I’ll have to settle for grabbing some ice from the kitchen and setting on a pew.”

“ _ I  _ will go get you some ice from the kitchen and  _ put _ you on a pew. If you’re going to insist on staying rather than going to the hospital, you’re not walking anywhere,” Ezra replied, “but really, Crowley, we can simply leave. That looks like it hurts, and if you really feel so badly about pulling me away from a church fundraiser dinner because you may have broken your ankle, I assure you, there will be others that you can escort me to.”

“I don’t think I broke it,” Crowley replied, poking their ankle. 

Ezra didn’t miss the way they winced after doing so.

“Maybe I was wrong about being smote for walking into a church again, after all, I  _ did _ just make it over the threshold,” Crowley laughed, glancing back up at the doorway that they had just made it through.

Ezra rolled his eyes. He didn't bother trying to help Crowley back to their feet, just scooped them up off the floor like some sort of blushing bride and carried them to one of the pews. 

"I didn't know you could lift me!" Crowley laughed some more, wrapping both arms around Ezra’s shoulders as people in the church cheered for him. One particular parishioner even wolf-whistled, of course, someone Ezra knew quite well. He blushed.

"I'm not  _ all _ soft," Ezra said simply, walking over to a pew and gently setting Crowley down on it. “I really think we should just go, dear,” he insisted. 

Crowley looked down at their ankle.

Ezra saw their eyes widen as they realized that it had swollen up even more since they had last checked on it. “Maybe you’re right,” they agreed, biting their red-painted lips. “It does look pretty nasty. So when did you wind up not being all soft?” They asked with a teasing grin. “Got a past wrestling elephants?” 

“Just other secondary school students, but I  _ was _ considered to be quite good. I decided it wasn’t for me after I graduated,” Ezra replied, “so are we agreed that we’re going to the hospital?” 

Crowley didn’t seem to hear the last part. “God, so much for my being the cocky shit I am around you, you could pin me to the ground in two seconds  _ flat.” _

“Oh, please, continue to be as swaggery and cocky around me as you please, although that  _ has _ crossed my mind before, I would never do so,” Ezra said, “hospital?”

“Oh, fine, bring me to the hospital, strongman,” Crowley agreed. 

“I am never going to hear the end of this, am I?” Ezra sighed, lifting Crowley carefully back off the pew.

He grabbed Crowley’s shoes off the floor as they passed back through the doorway and threw them in the backseat of the car. “Keys, please,” he said gently. 

“You have a license?”

“Of course I have a license!” 

“You’ve driven a standard before?”

“Once or twice.” 

Crowley made a face, but pulled the keys out of their pocket. “I’m going to be very cross if you ruin my transmission.”

“I’m not going to ruin your transmission, Crowley,” Ezra assured them, pulled the passenger’s door open and got his date settled into the seat, careful not to bump their foot into anything. 

“Have you got another tattoo there?” Ezra asked suddenly, gazing at the inside of Crowley’s uninjured ankle. 

“Are you checking out my ankles, angel? How positively scandalous! Yes, I do,” Crowley confirmed, but didn’t elaborate. 

Ezra moved over to the driver’s seat and started the engine before he asked further questions. “What’s that one of?” 

“S’ wings, angel,” Crowley replied, hoisting that leg up to sit across their lap. “See?”

Ezra looked down. 

It was indeed a pair of wings, with black feathers. 

What Crowley  _ didn’t _ mention was the fact that they were tattooed to be  _ on fire. _ “Any reason they’re burning?” 

Crowley gave a sort of chuckle. “Group I was in had a  _ name,  _ angel. S’ symbolic,” they replied, “and not the only one. Got most of ‘em removed when I left, if you ask Warlock he probably remembers some, but ankle and ribs hurt like a sonofabitch to get done and I didn’t feel like them hurting even  _ more _ to come off. And I  _ like _ the snake.”

“So do I,” Ezra admitted, “it suits you.”

Crowley smiled. “You’d better drive us to the hospital, angel, we can talk ink while we inevitably have to wait ages in emergency.”

Ezra supposed he had a point. He put the old car into first gear as carefully as he could, tried to ignore Crowley’s gritted teeth, although whether they were gritted in pain of the lurching movement, or due to his driving, Ezra opted not to ask. 

Sure enough, signed in at the emergency room they had  _ at least _ a two hour wait. Crowley squinted even with their sunglasses under the bright fluorescent lights of the hospital, and let Ezra proceed to carry them over and onto a chair. 

“I’ve just realized, Crowley, I’ve made a mistake so horrible it’s almost criminal!” 

“You mean besides the fact that you kept trying to skip second gear?”

“Oh, hush, I’m trying to be funny and sweet and you’re ruining it by complaining about my driving.”

Amused, Crowley sat up a little straighter, although it took a little more effort that way to keep their foot off the ground. “What is this mistake so horrible it’s almost criminal, Ezra?” They asked, a smile forming on their face. 

“I neglected to tell you that you look absolutely stunning, Crowley,” Ezra replied, “instead I gave you a hard time about your shoes, and rest assured, that will not happen again.” 

Crowley frowned. “Not too…  _ effeminate? _ You didn’t strike me as into women,” they remarked. 

“The only way you could be too effeminate is if you were uncomfortable with it, Crowley,” Ezra replied, “I have wondered before if you present as feminine as you do non-binary and masculine, although I was unsure of how to ask, and I assure you, you’re not going to scare me away by doing so.” 

Crowley had to swallow down the lump in their throat. “You mean that?” 

“Crowley, you were nervous about coming to pick me up like this, weren’t you? Like you were on Halloween,” Ezra guessed.

Crowley bit their lip, but nodded. 

They had been fretting a little, even as they had mussed with eyeliner and lipstick and mascara and considered eye shadow before deciding they didn’t have the energy to do it.

“Well, you needn’t be. As long as it’s  _ you _ at my door, you won’t be chasing me away by looking different or using different pronouns.”

“Don’t feel feminine that often,” Crowley admitted, “sort of a once in a blue moon thing, especially  _ fully. _ Did consider a dress for tonight though. Do have a nice dress, course, with my spill I probably would have ripped the damned thing.”

Ezra smiled. “Were you considering something equally as black?” He asked, motioning to their black slacks and dress shirt. 

Crowley shook their head. “S’ green, angel. Got a nice green dress, and a red one but can’t wear that to a church.”

Ezra laughed. “So it’s a little red dress rather than a little black dress?” 

“No, s’ not little, just got an open back n’ you can see my other tattoo. It’s not very…  _ godly.” _

Ezra snickered. “Whatever could you mean by that? You haven’t got a pentagram on your ribs, have you?” 

“No, no pentagram, m’ not a witch. You’ve got a cross, and we had our own,” Crowley replied, and when Ezra seemed confused they lifted the edge of their black shirt until Ezra could see most of it. “Devil’s cross. Not really a church symbol.”

“Am I dating a satanist?”

“No, not satanism. Group I was in went by  _ Demons. _ Obviously we need the occult symbolism,” Crowley replied, “hence the burning wings, too.”

They let their hand fall away from the hemn of their shirt, even as Ezra looked curiously at it. “I can’t say I’ve seen this before!” He exclaimed, tracing a finger along the black ink until Crowley shied away. It tickled.

“S’ not as popular as the inverted pentagram, but it  _ is _ up there. Suppose we could have tattooed 666 there if we had known that you wouldn’t recognize this symbol,” Crowley said, a playful tone in their voice. “Can’t have Ezra Fell not recognizing the satanic rune on my ribs.” 

Ezra laughed. “Well, regardless of the symbol, it’s excellent work,” he said. 

“We knew a guy,” Crowley said elusively. 

“I’m sure you did.”

“Doesn’t bother you, does it?” Crowley asked suddenly, as it had just occurred to them that they had  _ Satan’s cross _ on their ribs and their boyfriend went to church fundraisers.

“No, it doesn’t bother me, Crowley. You really are nervous today, aren’t you?” Ezra laughed. 

“Must be the ankle, makin’ me worried about everything,” Crowley replied. 

“Well, I must put your worries at ease, Crowley. You needn’t fear, I love  _ you, _ ink and all, boyfriend, girlfriend, significant other, whichever one closest describes you at the moment you wonder,” Ezra said. 

Crowley just stared up at him with wide eyes. “Ezra- you-” they paused a moment. “You said-” 

“Oh, dear, you’re right, I did. Was that too soon, dear? We can pretend I never said it, I can come up with a different way to phrase that, I don’t mean to make you uncomfortable and you by no means have to say it back-” 

“Thought I was going to get to be the first one to say it!” Crowley exclaimed, a grin splitting their face. “M’ not uncomfortable, Ezra, y’ just surprised me, is all!” 

They were silent for a couple of seconds. “You mean it?” Crowley asked, almost seeming hesitant to find out the answer. 

They had to ask, but they almost couldn’t stand to hear the answer. They so desperately  _ needed  _ Ezra to confirm that he meant it that they had to ask, even as fear gripped them that Ezra would take it back.

“Of course I did, Crowley,” Ezra whispered, “but I can say it again if you need convincing?”

“Please, angel,” Crowley said softly. 

“I love you, Anthony Crowley,” Ezra said, smiling wide. 

“I love you too, Ezra Fell.”

It was an odd place to say that for the first time, sitting in the emergency room, Crowley with one foot off the ground, ankle swollen like a balloon, but they wouldn’t have it any other way. 

They leaned in their typical boneless manner over the armrests of the chairs, pulled their arms around his shoulders and kissed him, unconcerned by the others that were still in the room. “I love you. I’m never going to stop saying that, not now that I know I can,” Crowley said softly, lips just barely brushing Ezra’s cheek. 

“I wouldn’t want you to, dear, but I believe you’re going to make the others waiting here uncomfortable if you get much closer,” Ezra warned. 

“Fuck ‘em,” Crowley said, shifting so they were sitting on the armrests of the chairs with their feet carefully balanced where they had been sitting, keeping their injured ankle well away from anything it could bump into.

Ezra laughed some more, pulled his arms around their waist and pulled them down off the armrests onto his lap. “Sit still, you’re going to hurt yourself, Crowley, honestly.”

“Already hurt myself,” Crowley replied, but they gladly settled into their new spot, leaning their head against Ezra’s shoulders. 

“You know, this is quite a dramatic step up for getting out of our dates than getting drunk was.”

“Hey! Y’  _ know _ I wasn’t trying to get out of our date, angel.”

“I know, dear, but you did get drunk right before dinner and lie to me over the phone about it, I reserve the right to tease you about it.”

“Fine, guess that’s fair.”

The receptionist cleared her throat. “As comfortable as you two gentlemen look, the doctor’s ready to see you now,” she said, gazing at the two of them. 

Crowley didn’t even flinch from where they were sitting. “M’ not a gentleman,” they said simply, then turned back to Ezra. “Well, is my strongman going to carry me into this room as well? After all, I might have broken my ankle and certainly can’t walk!” 

“I think I liked angel better than this strongman business,” Ezra remarked, but lifted Crowley up anyways. 

“All you had to say, angel,” Crowley replied, “I like calling you angel just fine.”

“I know you do. I’m afraid that giving you a similar nickname probably wouldn’t be as sweet, all things considered.”

“People might have questions ‘f you call me demon,” Crowley agreed as Ezra followed the nurse into the exam room. “But you’ve already got something you call me, Ezra, no need for another.”

“And what is that?”

“Dear.”

“I call everyone dear, Crowley,” Ezra replied. 

“I know, but I still like it,” Crowley decided. 

“I’m glad.” 

Ezra placed them onto the bed in the room, and a few minutes later the doctor walked in. 

“What have we here?”

“Got smote for stepping foot on consecrated ground,” Crowley replied, “isn’t that right, angel?”

“They slipped while walking into a church with me for a fundraiser,” Ezra said, a little more helpfully. 

“I see,” the doctor took a look at Crowley’s ankle. “Can you move it?” 

“Not without it hurting,” Crowley replied. 

He nodded, poked around a bit, much to Crowley’s displeasure. 

“Well, I’m going to have to take you up to radiology, I would say it’s definitely broken,” the doctor decided, giving it one final prod. Crowley hissed and pulled away from his fingers. “We’ll get you into a chair so you don’t have to walk, see what we’re dealing with, and when we cast it, you should be right as rain.” 

“Ugh, I was hoping you were  _ wrong _ about it being broken, angel. I’m going to have to let you drive  _ everywhere _ now!” 

“Think of how much better I’ll be able to shift the Bentley by the time the cast comes off.” 

“I was thinking more about trying to find a new transmission for it, angel.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed my version of the church scene! I really wanted to keep something about a church and Crowley getting hurt in one in this story and this came to mind!


	18. Chapter 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After the disaster in the church, it's time for a make-up date. Crowley has just the place in mind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry, normally I update around midnight on Sunday but I was real tired and just went to bed, so now this is a little late.

“Ezra!” Crowley squeaked as Ezra moved and she just about toppled over. “Ezra you need to pass me my crutches before you move when I’m leaning on you!” 

Ezra whirled back around and caught her, lifting her back upright and handing the wooden crutches back to her. “This wouldn’t be a problem if you would sit down like I said you should, love,” he remarked. 

“Tired of sitting, Ezra.”

It wasn’t like Crowley hadn’t done a lot of sitting lately. With the black cast wrapped around her ankle and the crutches pressed up into her ribs until they hurt, she was more than ready to take this cast off, and it had only been a week. 

Ezra had been devastated over her choice of a black cast, since it was so much harder to sign, and had gone out and bought a white marker in order to draw a little heart on the plaster. 

Crowley complained about it out loud, but internally thought it was adorable. She liked to trace her finger over the little white heart anytime no one was looking. 

It reminded her of the good that trip to the emergency room had done.

She couldn’t remember another occasion when a trip to the hospital had been a good thing, but she wouldn’t trade it for the world. 

“Hey Anne, we’re home,” Warlock announced as he stepped into their flat. “Adam just wanted to drop off his knapsack, then he’s coming over here.” 

“You two know you don’t have to stay here and look after me, right Ezra?” Crowley asked, raising an eyebrow and eyeing Ezra. 

She didn’t want to admit it, but she truly didn’t want him to go. It was outrageously early to even  _ think _ about moving in together, but some part of Crowley loved that Ezra was around almost all the time. He still ran the shop in the mornings, but he came over in the afternoons and helped Crowley get dinner ready and get everything settled for the night. 

Crowley, for her part, had been forced to temporarily close the flower shop. She had no other employees, and couldn’t run it herself without being able to walk. 

It was infuriating, with Easter right around the corner and planting season coming up quickly, but she didn’t have a choice. 

“Crowley, you know we’re happy to be here and help,” Ezra said with a smile. “And the children are too clever for their own good, so it’s not like we have to try and put on an act. It’s been quite enjoyable, even if I have to pick up after you.”

“I’m not that hard to pick up after, am I?” Crowley asked, pressing a hand over her chest. "Besides, at least you have something to look at while you do it!" 

"You do look lovely today," Ezra agreed. 

"Good, because we're going on a make-up date. That's the plan for the night, Shadwell and Tracy are coming over to look after the kids," Crowley replied. 

"I assume we aren't going to a church, given that I _believe_ that's the red dress you mentioned in the hospital," Ezra laughed. 

"Got that right. Green's got a slit skirt and there's no point in showing off my legs when I've got all this black plaster on my ankle. Not to mention, unshaved is a great look, but not my favourite and I did  _ not  _ have time nor energy for that today." 

Ezra laughed, and Crowley slowly hobbled her way to the door. “Come on, we’ll be late. Shadwell and Tracy will be here any minute, and I trust Pretzel not to break out of her tank, grow six feet and kill the kids in the couple of minutes they’ll be alone. Besides, Baron will protect them. Isn’t that right, Baron?”

Crowley reached down to pet the fluffy calico, who hissed and swiped at her hand the moment the cat could reach it. “See? Super protective!” 

Warlock laughed and walked over, scooping up the large cat in his arms and carrying her over to Ezra. “Don’t listen to Anne, Ezra, Baron is perfectly sweet.”

Ezra scratched Baron’s head. She purred, and Crowley glared at her. 

Ezra pet Baron once more and walked over to where Crowley was standing. "Well, shall we be off? I think you need to give me your keys, unless you want to take the metro on crutches." 

Crowley made a big display of grabbing the keys to the Bentley off of the hook they sat on and handing them over to Ezra. "No grinding my gears this time?" 

"I'll do my best, dear. Where are we going?” Ezra asked, stepping out the door and into the garage.

“Shadwell and Tracy owed me a favour and happened upon some tickets to this, so no complaints, got it? I didn’t pay anything for them, just managed to get the flowers for Tracy and Shadwell’s wedding in the less-than-48-hours they gave warning,” Crowley replied. 

“Alright, alright, where are we going?” Ezra repeated, opening the door for Crowley, who carefully lowered herself into the passenger’s seat. Ezra tucked her crutches into the backseat. 

“Take us to the Globe Theatre,” Crowley replied with a grin. “They’re putting on Hamlet and Shadwell and Tracy didn’t want to go, so I took the tickets off their hands.” 

“Why didn’t you tell me, I’m hardly dressed appropriately!” 

“Sure you are, and I  _ did _ tell you to dress up, Ezra. Besides, you look splendid,” Crowley said, smiling flirtatiously. “Clothes are dressed up enough for the theatre, and good enough to make someone want to get them off of you.” 

“Crowley!” 

“Too forward?”

“No, I suppose I can tolerate it for you, given that you, my dear, are temptation incarnate tonight,” Ezra replied. 

“Flatterer,” Crowley snickered, “ _ temptation incarnate? _ What’s that about?” 

“Well, you call me angel, and you  _ used _ to be a demon, as you told me the other day in the hospital, so I figured… temptation incarnate!”

"I like it," Crowley decided, grinning. "Temptation incarnate. Feel like I can live up to it more once I'm rid of the crutches, 'course."

"Hard to be all swaggery when you're stuck hobbling around?" Ezra laughed. 

“Just you wait, I’ll stop having to hobble soon and then I’ll be even  _ more _ swaggery, Ezra,” Crowley warned. 

“I certainly hope you will be, I must admit to feeling sorry for you, hobbling around as you are,” Ezra laughed, pulling out onto another road with minimal lurching from the car. Crowley only winced a little. 

“How did Shadwell manage to get these tickets?” 

“He’s a veteran of some thing or another, occasionally gets tickets like this,” Crowley replied, “but he’s got his thing against witches and supernatural shit so he doesn’t like to see a lot of Shakespeare’s plays. Don’t get him  _ started _ on Macbeth.”

“ _ Double, double, toil and trouble, _ ” Ezra mused. 

“ _ Fire burn and cauldron bubble,” _ Crowley continued, “listened to that one for secondary school, that’s for sure. Is there anyone that hasn’t?”

“I don’t think so. It’s a good one, to be fair.” 

“Liked it more than Romeo and Juliet,” Crowley agreed. 

“Do you even like Shakespeare, Crowley, or are we going  _ simply _ because you know I like Hamlet?” Ezra asked, glancing over at her. 

“That would be telling, Ezra, and I can’t give away all my romantic secrets at once, can I?” Crowley asked. 

“I suppose you can’t, but I do hope you’re actually going to enjoy yourself tonight, dear,” Ezra remarked. 

“How could I not? I’m with you, aren’t I?” Crowley asked, gazing up at Ezra with a smile. “I always have a good time when I’m with you.” 

“Even breaking your ankle stepping into a church?” 

“I remember a much different detail of that night than just me breaking my ankle,” Crowley decided, “ankle is secondary. And the church and all of that.” 

Crowley watched a smile split Ezra’s face. “Wouldn’t you agree, Ezra?”

“Of course, my dear,” Ezra agreed, turning once more and pulling into the car park at Shakespeare’s Globe Theatre.

“I haven’t actually been to see a play here before,” Ezra admitted. 

“Me neither, although I suspect that there’s different reasons for both of us. Shadwell just about choked when he heard I was interested in theatre tickets, apparently I don’t seem the type. Or at least not the type for Shakespeare’s tragedies,” Crowley laughed, pushed the passenger’s door open but had to wait for Ezra to make it around to the other side and pass her the crutches. “Shall we head inside?” 

With Crowley on crutches, there was no possibility for holding hands, but Ezra stayed glued to her side as though they were holding onto each other. 

Crowley thought it was sweet. She reached into her purse and fished out the tickets as they neared the entrance, held out one to Ezra. 

Ezra smiled back at her as she did so. “Thank you, love. I will say, it hasn’t truly started yet, and this is still the best make-up date anyone has ever taken me on.” 

“Good. That  _ is _ what I was going for.”

The play was incredible, surpassed only by the company. Despite voicing not being one for tragedies, Crowley was an excellent person to watch a play with, with surprisingly good etiquette in the theatre, as though she  _ had _ been to some form before. 

And Shadwell’s tickets were  _ excellent _ seats, with the perfect view of the stage and all around them. 

Crowley sat with her head on his shoulder, arm around his waist, their silver snake earring biting ever-so-slightly into Ezra’s shoulder, not that he minded. It had been a struggle for her to get through the theatre to their seats, and now her crutches were laid out on the ground at their feet. 

Ezra had read Hamlet often enough to know a great many of the words, and once realized he had been caught mouthing along with a monologue when Crowley laughed, just loud enough for him to hear. He looked down to see her watching him rather than the play. 

“You don’t actually like Shakespeare, do you?” Ezra realized, “you’re not even watching the play!”

“I like the funny ones,” Crowley replied with a smirk, “and I like spending time with you. Besides, I didn’t get to choose which production Shadwell got tickets to, did I? Maybe I would have brought us to  _ Much Ado About Nothing _ or  _ Twelfth Night _ if I’d gotten the choice.” There was a moment’s pause. “Or maybe I still would have picked  _ Hamlet, _ since I know it’s your favourite,” she allowed. 

Someone seated behind the couple shushed them. Ezra blushed, embarrassed to have disturbed someone else, but Crowley just wrinkled up her nose and stuck her tongue out at the offending patron before continuing to either watch Ezra or the play, Ezra was no longer quite sure. 

“She had a point, we weren’t being polite,” Ezra whispered. 

“I know, it was just fun to annoy her.” 

Ezra snickered at that, then turned his attention back to the stage. He didn’t want to miss a moment of the play. It truly was something else to see the play  _ here _ of all places. It was, of course, not Shakespeare’s  _ true _ theatre, that had been torn down, but it was close enough to completely take Ezra’s breath away. 

He had always wanted to see a play here, but it had always been out of the realm of possibility for various reasons. When he was a child, he had no one to take him, and then they had moved to America, and when he had come back to London, he had struggled enough to keep himself supported out in Tadfield. Going to the theatre had been off the table for so long that by the time it was back on the table, Ezra had all but forgotten that it was a dream of his in the first place. 

Crowley’s offer of the tickets had been the first reminder in ages that he had so desperately wanted to go. 

And now he was  _ here. _ With Crowley, because his incredible girlfriend was absolutely magic and managed to not only surprise him with tickets, but tickets to his  _ favourite _ play and without stepping over the careful limitations that Ezra had established about Crowley spending extreme amounts of money on their dates. He didn’t have a clue how Crowley pulled things like this off, had a feeling that he wasn’t always going to want to know how Crowley pulled things like these off. He doubted all the coincidences would have such innocent explanations as getting the tickets from a retired army veteran. 

But, since this one did have an innocent explanation, he fully intended to enjoy it. 

_ “Goodnight, sweet prince. And flights of angels sing thee to thy rest.”  _

Ezra jumped to his feet, clapping, Crowley struggling back up to her feet to join him, leaned heavily against his shoulder to keep herself upright. 

Crowley leaned over and gave him a kiss. “Good make-up date?”

“Excellent make-up date,” Ezra assured her. 

“Great! Dinner? My treat? It’s late, neither of us ate anything before coming here and neither of us are going to want to cook anything when we get home,” Crowley offered, “you can choose the place, angel.”

Ezra thought about it. “I haven’t even gotten you back for last time yet,” he remarked, furrowing his brow. 

“Alright, I might have something fast at home that I could whip up instead? I know you must be hungry, even  _ I’m _ hungry. Wouldn’t be prime cuisine, but I’m sure there’s something.”

Ezra thought about that for another moment. “I have some of last night’s dinner leftover, it could easily be reheated, if we wanted.” 

“Sounds excellent, angel,” Crowley agreed. 

And he was  _ fairly sure _ that was what led to Crowley sleeping on his couch the next morning, that and her insisting that she wouldn’t intrude on his room, would just mosey on across the street back home after  _ several _ bottles of wine. Clearly, she had only made it back as far as the couch before needing to sit down, and then passing out. 

He smiled fondly down at her, resolved to get working on breakfast. 

At the very least, this time the guardians had been informed that they would likely not be home any time soon, and that they could leave the kids in Crowley’s flat overnight if need be, to which Tracy had replied that they ought to perish the thought, and they had just brought both boys back to their own flat for the night when no one had come home. 

Ezra was adding chocolate chips and blueberries to the pancake batter when Crowley stepped into the kitchen, bleary-eyed and seeming worse for wear. “I  _ did _ stay here overnight, didn’t I? I thought so, when I woke up on the couch,” she remarked, “sorry about that, angel.”

She reached his side and kissed his cheek.

“Rather you pass out on the couch than in the middle of the street, dear,” Ezra replied, “I was just making breakfast, there’s coffee in the carafe if you wanted, or I could make tea.”

“Coffee sounds wonderful, angel,” Crowley decided, “have you got any aspirin? We  _ might _ have drank a little more wine than I thought we did.”

“In the bathroom cabinet,” Ezra confirmed, “I’ve already had one, help yourself. I thought I would let you sleep.”

“I appreciate it,” Crowley said with a smile, and disappeared down the hall. 

She re-emerged looking a little more awake, having pulled the pins that were smushed and mussed around in her hair out and let it fall to her shoulders and look a little less slept-in. “Should have cleaned up last night, I look frightful. Can’t imagine you’ve got any makeup remover.” 

“I’m afraid not.”

“Well, the soap and water will have to do for now,” Crowley decided. 

“You look lovely, dear.” 

“I slept in last night’s clothes, on your couch, face full of makeup and pins in my hair. You don’t have to lie to me to spare my feelings, Ezra, I know I look like a mess.” Crowley scoffed.

“Well, maybe you can do something about the clothes part. You could always have a pair of spare clothes here.”

Ezra continued stirring the batter until he couldn’t ignore Crowley’s raised eyebrow. “You’re going to give me a drawer already, angel?” She asked teasingly. 

“Well, if you’re going to be sleeping over, I suppose I had better! Of all the things that  _ are _ atrocious, I would put your morning breath as number one, so we’ll have to get you a toothbrush, at the very least,” Ezra replied, a grin on his face. 

“Hey! It’s not that bad, is it?” 

Crowley held a hand in front of her face, breathed into it and gave it a sniff. “Nevermind, it is bad, I’m sorry, I do need a toothbrush,” she decided, wrinkling her nose. “Smells worse than just wine breath, ugh.”

“Oh, Crowley, I was only teasing you. Come here and help me finish making breakfast? We should go get the children after we’ve eaten, we’ve imposed enough on Shadwell and Tracy for the night, I believe.” 

“Eh, they  _ love _ Warlock and Adam, trust me, they didn’t mind in the slightest. Like a pair of doting grandparents, those two,” Crowley replied, waving a hand around. “Which is good, because from the sounds of it, Warlock and Adam are both short on doting grandparents.”

“Indeed they are,” Ezra agreed. 

Crowley walked over and helped, as much as one could really help, Ezra pour the batter onto the skillet and finish making the pancakes. Mostly, she just got in the way and stole kisses in between Ezra flipping the pancakes that Ezra had to admit, she didn’t have to work that hard to steal. He gave them out willingly enough. 

It was as they were sitting down to eat that Ezra realized with a jolt the milestone that had been crossed. 

Crowley had spent the night in Ezra’s flat.


	19. Chapter 19

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crowley frets, Ezra does his best to help.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry, I swear to God that on Sunday I will make sure to post at midnight and queue the tumblr post for 6 am I have a midterm today and got hella distracted last night!

“Things have been too quiet, Ezra,” Crowley said, biting at his lip. 

“You mean from your old friends?” Ezra asked, frowning. “Isn’t that a good thing? I would assume that you wouldn’t want to hear from them.”

“I’m going to have to, aren’t I, angel?” Crowley asked, looking up from whatever it was he was chopping. Ezra had offered to help him cook, but he had insisted that he could do it, and he wanted to do it himself and let Ezra relax. He couldn’t figure out why, since Crowley currently still had to hold himself up with one crutch tucked under his shoulder. “They aren’t going to forget, I’ve still got their damned phone in my pocket, and I  _ should _ have heard something by now. I just want to get this all behind me and move on with my life, Ezra, and this is making me nervous. I don’t even know  _ what’s _ at stake here! I could ask you to look after Warlock for the weekend and wind up being arrested and not coming back!” 

Ezra had never thought of it that way. His eyes widened. “You don’t think that will be the case, do you?” He asked, starting to feel a little nervous. 

He knew, instinctively, that he didn’t want anything to happen to Crowley, and not just because it would leave him responsible for both Warlock and Adam. 

Crowley’s answer wasn’t at all reassuring. “I have no idea, Ezra. We got  _ lucky _ not to get caught while I was still a part of the organization, there’s no saying that we keep getting lucky. I don’t know why they want me part of this one. Maybe it’s a trap, how would I know?”

Ezra had a lot of things to say to that. How was he supposed to be fine with Crowley winding up in prison? What was  _ he _ supposed to do?

But those weren’t the concerns he voiced. “What am I supposed to tell Warlock if that happens?” He asked. 

“There’s enough money in this flat to cover whatever bail they set, remind me to tell you where to look for it. I’ll tell him myself, Ezra, don’t worry,” Crowley replied, “so long as you’re still feeling cordial enough to bail my ass out of jail so I can do so. I’m not going to put any of this on you. This is all my own fault, and I’ll handle the consequences.”

Ezra looked around the flat with fresh eyes, wondering where Crowley stocked bank notes in this cool, sleek design, particularly enough to cover ‘whatever bail they set.’

“You won’t find it unless I tell you where it is, trust me,” Crowley said with a grin, catching him looking around. “I’ve gotten pretty good at hiding things over the years.”

“Better than the firearm that Warlock found?”

“Unfortunately, yes. As far as I know, Warlock has never found a stash,” Crowley confirmed, “then again, I didn’t know that he had found the gun, either.”

And that was even less reassuring. What else was lying around this flat for Warlock to happen upon? Crowley claimed that he did everything he possibly could to protect Warlock from the truth, and to an extent, Ezra supposed he did believe that, but it didn’t seem to be enough. Warlock was still exposed to so much more than Ezra thought was appropriate. 

But Ezra wasn’t Warlock’s guardian, and he hadn’t known Warlock for nearly as long as Crowley had. If Crowley said Warlock was safe, Ezra wanted to believe him.

So he decided to let the matter drop from his mind. He trusted Crowley, and Crowley wouldn’t risk the children’s safety. He had already promised that. He cared more about Warlock than anything else in the world, it was plain to see. Doubting his dedication to keeping the boy safe wasn’t fair, not with what lengths Ezra had seen him go to in order to keep Warlock safe and uninvolved.

“You alright there, Ezra? I know you’re worried, so am I. I wouldn’t blame you if you wanted to distance yourself until all of this is blown over-”

“Don’t be silly, Crowley. Whatever we’re in for, we’re in it together. I knew you were involved with something dangerous when I told you to kiss me on New Year’s Eve, I’ve no right to back out on you now that I know a little more,” Ezra replied. 

Crowley raised an eyebrow. “Some people would say you have  _ every _ right to back out now that you know more. I didn’t tell you everything the first time-” 

Ezra cut him off. “You can stop right there, Crowley, you  _ still  _ haven’t told me everything. I’m well aware of that fact, it’s something I’ve come to accept. So don’t talk to me like you have now, I don’t appreciate you pretending to be all clear. You’ll tell me when the time is right, I can’t expect you to bare all your secrets to me just yet. I understand that some past events are hard to talk about.”

Crowley stood there with his mouth open for a second, as though he was going to deny it, then gave up. “Yeah, that’s fair. But since I haven’t told you everything, you don’t know what you signed up for. You don’t have to stick with me through shit I haven’t even told you about, and I  _ can’t _ tell you about all of it,” Crowley said with a sigh. “Not yet.”

Ezra sighed. “Like I said, Crowley, we’re in this together,” Ezra replied, “you can stop fretting that I’m going to leave you to this by yourself. I’m still here, aren’t I?”

“How ever did I get so lucky?” Crowley answered, leaning over and pressing a kiss to Ezra’s cheek. “A little hard to believe sometimes. Sometimes it feels like… it’s all going to crash down around me, and everything I’ve worked so hard to make of myself is going to fall apart. Someday everyone’s going to wake up and realize that it’s all a fraud, and all I’m going to amount to is what I’m being dragged back into.”

Ezra blinked, swallowed hard. 

He knew that Crowley didn’t like to share, knew that Crowley liked to keep everything bottled up and never let any of it out. 

It stunned him and Crowley was willing to voice that insecurity. 

And he really needed to come up with something good to reply with. He couldn’t let Crowley open up like that and not have something reassuring to say. “Crowley, you’ve already amounted to more than what you used to be. Look at you! You’re a father, you run your own business, Warlock  _ adores _ you!” 

Somehow, mentioning Warlock didn’t seem to help the case. Crowley slowly put down the knife he was using down on the cutting board, made his way back to the table, hobbling on the one crutch he was still agreeing to use.

Took a seat, buried his face in his hands, but didn’t say anything. 

Ezra placed a hand on his shoulder. “Crowley, what’s wrong? Isn’t that true?”

“It is, I just… this was supposed to be  _ over _ , Ezra. Before Warlock came around, before the flower shop, before  _ all _ of this,” he whispered, “I wasn’t going to involve Warlock in this at all, Ezra, you have to believe me, this was all supposed to be  _ over _ by now. I was  _ just _ going to be a parent, and a florist, I promise. I didn’t want to put him at risk. I wouldn’t have adopted if I thought he was going to be at risk because of my mistakes.”

“I know, Crowley. I believe you. I know you wouldn’t have adopted Warlock if you thought he was in any danger. You only want what’s best for him, anyone could see that,” Ezra murmured, reaching over and pulling Crowley into his arms. 

Crowley flopped over listlessly, let Ezra hold onto him. “There’s no crime in you wanting a new life, and starting a family, Crowley, you thought he was safe,” he murmured, “you can’t be faulted for believing things would be safe. And I believe that things will go back to normal, someday soon, and Warlock  _ will _ be safe here again. But if you’re really so scared for him… why haven’t you thought of bringing him somewhere safer?”

Crowley tensed at the suggestion, and Ezra knew he had said something wrong. “I can’t.”

Ezra was about to ask why not, but decided he was probably better off not to. 

There was more that Crowley didn’t want to tell him just yet. And maybe it had to do with Warlock not being able to leave. 

Or maybe it was as simple as Crowley couldn’t bring himself to give Warlock up to anyone else, even just temporarily while he got his life sorted. 

And who was Warlock going to go to? Crowley’s parents didn’t speak with him, he didn’t have any siblings. 

There was no one except Crowley or Ezra to look after Warlock, and having Warlock live in the bookshop was really no different than him living at the flower shop by this point. 

So Warlock  _ had _ to stay with Crowley. There was nowhere else for him to go. 

“Alright. Then he stays here with you. That’s alright, Crowley. Things are going to get better, I promise. Everything is going to be taken care of, we’re going to get through this together,” Ezra whispered. 

If Warlock didn’t stay in the flower shop until the moment that Crowley left for that job, he was dead, and Crowley was going to prison for kidnapping and murder. 

Neither of which he had actually done. He had played his own part in the job, yes, but he hadn’t actually been a part of either crime. 

But there was no way to prove that. Not with Warlock with him. Not with the proof they had. Sure, he could bring them down with him, but they knew he was more afraid of losing his situation than they were.

And they would have him ruined and discredited before he could make any allegations, and how would he prove they were involved when he was currently the guardian of the only  _ evidence _ that remained of the crime?

“You don’t know how badly I wish I  _ could _ tell someone everything, Ezra. Been a long time keeping it all to myself,” he muttered, “but it’s not just me in trouble if I do.”

Ezra gathered him a little tighter. Crowley suspected that a large part of his partner still couldn't wrap his head around the amount of trouble that Crowley truly was in, and couldn't fully comprehend who he'd agreed to stay with and support.

And part of that was Crowley's fault. He knew that. 

And part of him was already preparing for the day that Ezra found out  _ too much _ of the truth and turned his back on him.

It would be exactly what he deserved, after all. He couldn’t refuse to tell people the truth and expect them to continue to support him when they found out the true extent of the wrong he had done. 

But for now, selfish as it was, and regardless of how much he would regret it when he was inevitably cut off, Crowley was going to cling to all the support he could get. What else could he do? Reject the only support he was ever going to get? 

He was going to be  _ alone _ when everyone found out. He should relish in not being alone until they did.

“Someday, I hope you get the chance to get it all off your chest. And that doesn’t have to be to me, love, I just hope you find someone that it’s safe for you to open up to. There’s… there’s things you’ve done that you don’t  _ want _ me to know you’ve done, aren’t there?” 

Crowley stared up at Ezra, stricken, held prisoner by the directness of the question. He couldn’t lie and say no, but if he admitted the answer was yes, then where did that leave his relationship with Ezra?

Finally, he nodded. Closed his eyes. “There’s things I’ve done that I would leave me for,” he said hushedly, “and it’s no better of me to refuse to tell you, but-” 

“I don’t think you should be defined by what you’ve done. You’ve told me that you aren’t involved anymore, and I believe you. I won’t make you tell me what you’ve done,” Ezra promised, “everyone does things they aren’t proud of. Things that would make the world judge them harshly if it was what they knew. I’ll keep making my judgments of you based on the florist and father with a bit of a dark past, because that’s the man I know.”

“It’s more than I deserve from anyone,” Crowley admitted. 

“Maybe this isn’t based on what you deserve. I’m not the judge, jury or executioner of your life,” Ezra reminded him. 

“Thank Someone for that,” Crowley murmured. 

He didn’t really know how long they sat like that after they had both fallen silent, only knew that eventually Ezra cleared his throat and mentioned they should finish making dinner before Warlock and Adam complained, and helped Crowley back onto his feet. 

Crowley reluctantly finished his chopping while Ezra worked on the parts he had yet to get to but had insisted that he was going to do himself, but truth be told Crowley was glad he didn’t have to do it himself. 

It was too much like when he truly didn’t have anyone to help him. No one that would stand at his side when he needed someone. No one who hadn’t already seen through the barriers he put up and the lies he constructed, no one who didn’t see him for the monster that he really was. 

He turned and smiled at Ezra, trying not to convey the misgivings he still had. 

Ezra  _ loved _ him. And if that was conditional to what Crowley had done, then by  _ Someone _ he was going to bask in it while it lasted. 

Not just because he was starved for affection from anyone but Warlock, but because he  _ loved _ Ezra, and he could hardly believe that it was reciprocated. 

Ezra smiled back at him. “Are you done with your chopping? We can get everything in the pot if you are,” he suggested. 

Crowley pushed the cutting board over to Ezra, who dumped the contents into the pot. “Now you go sit down, dear, you shouldn’t be on your feet. The doctor won’t be pleased if he takes that cast off for new x-rays and you’ve screwed up your ankle even more. You don’t want them to have to pin it, do you? You’ve got all those tattoos, so I assume needles don’t bother you, but if they have to pin your ankle, you have to go in for surgery. I don’t think you’ll like that.” 

Crowley huffed, but listened to Ezra and went and sat down at the table. Ezra busied himself finishing up the cooking. “I’m sure I wouldn’t enjoy it,” he agreed, “besides, I need it to heal quickly. I can’t drive right now, and if they call… I can’t deliver on my promise if I can’t drive.”

He hadn’t mentioned that worry to Ezra yet, and now the bookkeep stared at him. “I hadn’t even considered such a thing…” he admitted, “I could drive for you.” 

“I can’t let you get involved, Ezra. If I get caught and get in trouble, I deserve it. You won’t.”

Ezra smiled sadly. “You can’t spend your whole life convinced you have to make up for past mistakes, Crowley. At some point, you have to declare the record settled and realize that you are a good person now who does good things.”

“I have a lot on my record to settle.” 

“And you’ve also done a lot of good. You’re a good father, a good friend, a good neighbour and an  _ excellent _ partner.”

“Am I? I keep making you uncomfortable,” Crowley said skeptically.

“And you  _ listen _ when I tell you that, dear. You do everything to avoid doing so when I tell you that you’ve made me uncomfortable,” Ezra said, smiling, “now, enough being down on yourself, the children could walk in at any moment, complaining that dinner is late. I’m glad you’ll voice your insecurities to me, and will gladly help you work through them when you’ll let me, but let’s keep what Warlock knows of them to a minimum? Knowing his guardian is doubting himself won’t be good for the boy.”

Crowley nodded, he knew Ezra was right. It was good for Warlock to know that Crowley wasn’t infallible, but he didn’t need to know the extent of his guardian’s misgivings. 

But misgivings were hard to put behind him. 

He wanted to believe that Ezra was right, that he could act like the red was cleared from his ledger and it would be true, but he knew, deep down, that there was too much. What had happened was unforgivable. You couldn’t make up for the red that the one stupid job had caused. 

One stupid job had gone horribly wrong, and maybe Crowley hadn’t pulled the trigger, hadn’t even had a hand on the gun that had caused the tragedy, but he was an accomplice. He was part of the plan, and thus, part of the destruction that it ensued. 

He felt like Lady Macbeth, trying and failing to clean the blood from his hands. He could scrub and scrub and scrub and it would never come off. 

But he had to just keep scrubbing. If he didn’t keep trying, then he had to give up and sit in it, and he feared he might meet a similar end as Lady Macbeth, flinging herself from the window and crashing to the earth below. 

Who would have the responsibility of telling Warlock and Ezra if that happened? Who would be Seyton, burdened with such horrible news, if he failed to keep trying?


	20. Chapter 20

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ezra loses his cool, Madame Tracy comes for a visit.

“Ezra? Is that a squad car parked outside my flat?” Crowley asked, peering out the window, frowning. 

Ezra hadn’t yet noticed anything, but when he looked out the window he spotted the automobile Crowley was asking about. “Yes, I believe it is,” he confirmed, looking over to Crowley. “Why would they be outside your flat?”

“I don’t know. They never used to come around this area unless someone called them,” Crowley replied, “Shadwell scared the  _ piss _ out of me one time when he  _ did _ call them.” 

Ezra was silent for a moment. “I suppose the police aren’t friends of yours.” 

“That’s an understatement.” 

Ezra sighed. “Well, I’m sure they’re not here about something you’ve done. They can’t possibly know about the plot,  _ you _ don’t even know about the plot.”

Crowley nodded, but kept his gaze fixed out the window. 

“Crowley, dear, you shouldn’t stare at them, they may notice. Come sit with me, think about something else,” Ezra said, tugging on his hand. 

Crowley stepped away from the window, blinking behind his glasses. “Sorry, angel. I guess I’m just jumpy.” 

“No one can blame you for that, dear. Now come sit down with me, I’m sure we can talk about something distracting,” Ezra offered, “or you can voice your concerns about the police without staring at them.”

“I don’t want to talk about them.”

Of course he didn’t. Crowley never wanted to talk about the past, until he suddenly did. He liked to keep everything bottled up until he absolutely couldn’t anymore, and it was vaguely infuriating. 

Ezra knew he didn’t have the full truth. At this point, he was stunned that Crowley had told him everything that he had, the way he clammed up lately if the past was mentioned. Ezra had begun sharing fun anecdotes from his past to remind Crowley they were partners and could tell each other anything, and nothing Crowley had said lately went back further than nine years. 

He did have to wonder why, with their relationship growing closer, he was being blocked out of more and more of Crowley’s secrets. Crowley wouldn’t even own up to things he had  _ already told _ Ezra, as if he had forgotten he had opened up and it gave Ezra certain misgivings. 

He had a feeling that if he demanded the truth now, he would get less than he had when Crowley had began talking when he was drunk. Crowley had filtered everything, including what Ezra already knew.

It  _ hurt, _ knowing that Crowley had decided that he wanted to hide from Ezra now. Knowing that he was trusted  _ less _ now, the longer their relationship progressed. 

Crowley sitting on the couch and leaning his head against Ezra’s shoulder started him out of his thoughts. “I know I’m being paranoid, angel, it’s just that I  _ could _ be the reason that they’re here.”

“I’m sure something just startled Sergeant Shadwell again, dear,” Ezra said reassuringly, wrapping his arm around Crowley’s shoulders. “There’s no reason to believe they’re here for you, and besides, there’s plenty of reasons to be arrested. Even  _ I’ve _ been arrested before, it’s really not the end of the world, no matter what your parents might think.”

That got Crowley’s attention. He sat up a little, looked over at Ezra. “You’ve been arrested?”

Ezra smiled, even though the way Crowley kept shutting him out of his past made Ezra consider not telling him. “If you must know, I was arrested in Paris for… indecent exposure. We decided to go swimming late at night somewhere that was… distinctively  _ not _ a naked beach.”

Crowley grinned. “You were arrested for skinny dipping?” 

“I hardly think I qualify for  _ skinny _ dipping, dear. You might be skin and bones,  _ I  _ am not,” Ezra replied, smiling. “However, yes, I suppose you could put it that way.”

Crowley looked like he was about to say something, but kept it to himself. Ezra could guess it had to do with his past again, that thing Crowley was refusing to speak of. 

"Why do you do that? You close yourself up like that, why? Why are you so afraid lately that you might tell me something?"

Crowley stared at him, honey-gold eyes intense and dark behind the black lenses he hid behind. "You wouldn't like me if you knew much more." 

"And you presume to make that judgement for me?" 

"I'm not an idiot, angel! All your talk of forgiveness is  _ nothing  _ if you were to know the truth. If I can't forgive myself, how could you?" Crowley demanded, "if I've sat on this guilt for nine years and never put it behind me how will you?"

"Why won't you give me the credit of letting me try?" Ezra asked, "stop making all these decisions for me and just trust me! You've been like this since we cooked dinner together a month ago, you suddenly won't tell me anything! You trusted me then, why not now? You  _ believed  _ me when I told you that I would stay with you, what changed?" 

"Are you sure you can tell belief from desperation?" Crowley asked, raising an eyebrow. 

Ezra stared at him in shock. "What do you  _ mean  _ by that, Crowley?" 

"I needed something to cling to. I'm not stupid enough to believe that anyone could ignore my past. Especially not  _ you _ ," Crowley continued, gaze raking over Ezra.

"What do you mean by that?" Ezra demanded. 

"Look at you! All perfect and pious, telling me about your excursion  _ skinny dipping _ like it's some big indecency!. Do you have any  _ idea  _ where  _ skinny dipping _ ranks on my rap sheet, if I had one?" Crowley hissed, getting up suddenly from the couch, pacing the floor of the bookshop. 

Lucky for Crowley, the cast had been swapped for a walking cast, more of a large boot than anything. 

"No, Crowley, no I don't, because you won't trust me enough to tell me, but still take it out on me that I don't understand what you've been through!" Ezra shot back. 

"I  _ can't  _ trust you! I-"

"Get out." 

“What?” 

“If you refuse to trust me, but you expect me to trust you when all you do is bring danger and chaos into my life, then get out! I would hate to force you to stay with someone you don’t trust!” 

“Angel, that’s not what I meant-” 

“I don’t really care  _ what _ you meant, Crowley! You’ve been making it  _ quite clear _ that you regret trusting me with what you’ve already told me, even going so far as to try and  _ deny _ some of it!” Ezra said furiously. 

“Angel, really, that’s not how I meant any of that!” 

“Well it’s how it’s coming across!” Ezra snapped. 

It felt good to snap. He felt like he’d been walking on eggshells since Crowley had started acting strangely, and he was finally giving in and just crunching on them, taking his first step on solid ground in days.

He shouldn’t have to walk on eggshells with his partner. Crowley shouldn’t make him feel uncomfortable, make him feel like he had to dance around a subject in case it blew up in his face. 

And Crowley, just weeks ago, and seemed so convinced that Ezra needed to know these things. Why was he going to now try to hide them? It wasn’t fair!

Still, a part of him did feel bad.

_ ‘I needed something to cling to,’ _ and here Ezra was, ripping that away from him. 

But he couldn’t be Crowley’s support structure, not even if he was the only member of that support structure, if Crowley was going to refuse to trust him. 

So he stood his ground. 

“Ezra, would you let me explain?”

“Are you actually going to explain, Crowley, or are you going to give me some sort of excuse for what you’ve said?” Ezra demanded. 

From the way Crowley fell silent, Ezra had his answer. 

“Just  _ leave, _ Crowley. It’s not doing either of us any good to have you here,” Ezra said, pointing at the door. “And don’t come back.”

This time, there was no argument. 

Crowley slunk out of Ezra’s house like a scolded cat. Ezra fought the urge to feel bad, to call him back and apologize. 

This was for the best. 

Maybe this just wasn’t meant to be. Crowley was never going to trust him and Ezra understood why, but he couldn’t form a meaningful relationship with someone without it. He wanted to trust Crowley, he needed Crowley to trust him in return. 

If they couldn’t have that, they were building a house on sand. The ground would give out beneath them and everything would fall apart, and it would probably hurt even more than it did right now. 

Adam walked into the kitchen. “Ezra, what happened?” He asked, tipping his head inquisitively. 

“Nothing, Adam. Crowley and I just had a disagreement,” Ezra replied, “I’m sure it will be sorted soon.”

Adam frowned. “It sounded like a breakup, Ezra,” he remarked, raising an eyebrow. 

This was why Ezra hadn’t wanted the kids to know they were dating. “Yes, I suppose it did,” he agreed, before taking a seat and letting the gravity of that statement sink in.

“Warlock! We’re ordering in, what do you want?” Crowley knew there was too much snap in his voice, his tone was just a little too raw for Warlock to not notice that something was wrong, but he couldn’t get it corrected in time. 

Warlock walked down the stairs. “I thought we were eating dinner with Ezra and Adam?” He remarked, looking up at Crowley in confusion. “Anthony, are you alright?” 

“I’m fine,” Crowley lied, “and there’s been a change of plans. I don’t feel like cooking, what would you like for dinner?” He asked, trying to jump them off the topic of  _ why _ the plans had changed.

“Anthony, what happened?”

“Could you  _ please _ just tell me what you want for dinner, Warlock!” Crowley snapped, “sometimes the changes in plans are none of your concern, or business!” 

And then he instantly felt bad about it. Warlock stared at him, grey eyes wide, for a couple of seconds. “Can we just order pizza?” He asked, sounding a little tentative. 

Crowley took a deep breath. 

He was hurt, yes, even though he didn’t want to think about it, much less address it, but he had no reason to take it out on Warlock. 

The boy, after all, had nothing to do with him being mistrustful or Ezra kicking him out. Warlock was just a child, and he’d been incredibly well-behaved, staying at home to work on his homework before dinner. 

Even if he  _ hadn’t _ been well-behaved, getting angry with him was misplaced.

“I’m sorry, Warlock. Things didn’t  _ exactly  _ go as planned over at the bookshop, I’d rather not talk about it,” he said, and Warlock nodded. “There is a reason why we’re on our own for dinner, but I’m sure you could still go and see Adam after dinner if you wanted, it has nothing to do with you two.” 

Warlock looked a little hesitant to ask his next question, but he did anyway. “Are you and Ezra fighting?”

Crowley didn’t particularly want to answer, he still didn’t want to address it, but he nodded. “We’ll work it out, I’m sure,” he said, even though he wasn’t sure at all. “What did you want on your pizza?” 

“Just pepperoni, Anthony,” Warlock replied. 

He contemplated Crowley for a few more minutes. His grey eyes were shockingly intense. “I don’t have to go see Adam, I’m sure he’d understand. We could stay here and watch a movie, instead,” he offered. 

Crowley raised an eyebrow. “Were you reading a book with a breakup, Warlock? Because honestly, all you’re missing is the wine. Come here.” He beckoned for Warlock to approach, the boy listened. He pulled him into a hug. “You’re a kid, Warlock, looking after me isn’t your responsibility, alright? I’m responsible for looking after  _ you. _ I’ll be fine, you go see your friend after dinner. I’ll be alright. If anything, I’ll go let Madame Tracy have a go at this, you know she would love to get her two cents into anything to do with relationships. You’re my son, not one of my gal pals, it’s not your job to get me through relationship troubles.”

Crowley didn’t intend to visit Madame Tracy, he honestly intended to eat pizza and get wildly drunk on the wine Ezra wouldn’t indulge in with him, but he figured if he told Warlock that he  _ would _ go see someone and try to get this out of his system, Warlock would be more willing to just go and play with his friends, like a kid should. 

Warlock nodded, held onto Crowley for a little longer before pulling away. “Can you call now? I’m starving,” he said. 

Crowley smiled at him. “Of course, Warlock.”

Warlock ran back up the stairs, Crowley made the phone call, ordered a large pizza and broke into his wine storage. 

It  _ was _ nicer to drink with a friend. But, the particular friend he had been drinking with was made uncomfortable by large price tags, so Crowley had a good store of some of his favourites that he hadn’t touched in months. 

He grabbed a couple of bottles, some white and some red, placed the whites in the fridge and opened one of the reds, poured a generous glass. 

Then he made for the sitting room. Besides not keeping Warlock with him, he did  _ mostly _ intend to follow Warlock’s regiment. He did  _ not _ want to think about what had just happened, didn’t want to work himself into a mess and wind up crying into a gallon of ice cream or something equally stupid, he just wanted to take his mind off of it. He would deal with everything tomorrow, handle the repercussions of his words and actions tomorrow. 

He could make it through tonight if he kept himself distracted. He could completely fall apart while Warlock was at school tomorrow, for now, he was going to handle this with his dignity intact. 

About a half an hour later, someone rang the doorbell, and Crowley quickly made the exchange for the pizza. 

Warlock materialized when he smelled melting cheese and pepperoni. Crowley ate with him in the dining room, and even left his wine glass in the sitting room. He was very focused on making Warlock think he was handling everything well. 

Warlock finished dinner and headed over to see Adam. 

Crowley knew that no matter how angry Ezra was with him, he wouldn’t turn Warlock away. 

Warlock would be fine. For the rest of the evening, Crowley only had to worry about himself. 

He finished the glass of wine he had poured, poured another and picked out a horror movie.

They were the most distracting, and he couldn’t watch them when Warlock, or Ezra, for that matter, were around.

The movie was just starting when someone knocked on his door. 

He groaned and made his way to the door, opened it to see Tracy standing outside, still in her red wig. “What’s up, Tracy?”

“Oh, don’t play games with me,  _ Crawley _ .”

“One time.  _ One time _ , I gave you a reason to call me that.”

“And I’m going to continue to do so forever, as you well know, Tony. Now come on, don’t play games, Warlock came to get me.”

“ _ Tony, _ that’s almost worse than Crawley. I have a name, you know.”

Tracy ignored him, eyed the wine glass in his hand. “Well, if that’s how this is going to be, I do hope you’re sharing.” 

“Who even invited you?” 

“I told you, Warlock did. He’s worried about you, said you and Ezra are fighting. I figured I didn’t have anything on this evening.” 

Crowley sighed. He knew well there was no getting rid of Madame Tracy. “Fine, fine, do you want red or white?” He asked. 

“Red please, Tony.” 

Crowley walked into the kitchen to pour another glass while Tracy got herself settled into the sitting room and turned off the movie. 

He handed her the glass when he walked in. 

“So, what happened, Tony,” Tracy asked, sipping her wine.

Crowley didn’t answer immediately. He settled himself back onto the sofa, sprawled out in a way he knew no one else could fathom how it was comfortable. “Ezra kicked me out. I said something stupid, I’ll fix it when he gives me a chance, we just need some time apart to cool down. It’s really nothing major.” 

“Tony, you and I both know you wouldn’t be sitting here watching  _ Braindead _ with several bottles of wine in your kitchen if it wasn’t anything major. You  _ only _ watch  _ Braindead _ when there’s something major going on.” 

“Why did I ever let anyone into my personal life? I miss being about to hide things,” Crowley said mournfully. He took a sip of his wine. “This is  _ only _ major because, as you so love to point out, Tracy, this is the first relationship I’ve been in since you’ve known me, remember? Everything feels more serious than it is. Seriously, I’ll patch this up in a few days when everything is settled and it will be fine. You don’t need to be here, and I suspect the only reason you came over is that Shadwell is having some sort of witchfinder meeting, and you prefer my alcohol to yours.” 

“I prefer anyone’s alcohol to mine, since I didn’t pay for it, Tony,” Tracy reminded him, “but that’s not exactly fair. I am concerned for you.” 

“Well, I assure you, there’s no reason to worry. Everything is fine, Warlock just overreacted. So, I suppose since you’re here now, I should pick a different movie, but seriously, my plans  _ were _ to enjoy some fine wine and watch a movie or two, and I don’t really intend to change them because no one believes that I am completely fine. So go pick out a DVD, and get comfortable.”

Tracy gave him a long look before she walked over to the DVD shelves. He knew she was going to pick some sort of rom-com that he was embarrassed to even have on those shelves, but he didn’t complain. 

As long as he could get through her visit without finally facing how much everything was hurting.


	21. Chapter 21

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A visitor drops by the bookshop, and then later, Flourish Flowers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is 5 hours early but I'm tired and don't want to stay up till midnight today and umlike Tumblr AO3 does not let me queue things

Ezra didn’t mean to be staring across the street into the flower shop. 

In all honesty, he was meant to be opening up the bookshop. Warlock and Adam had walked to school together, clearly neither Crowley nor himself found reason to drag the kids into this, thank God, and Ezra had been unlocking the till when the lights flickered on in  _ Fleurish Flowers. _

He hadn’t really thought out the logistics of dating his neighbour if this ever happened, had he? There really was no escaping each other. He could plainly see Crowley fiddling with the arrangements sitting on display, giving some of the flowers a proper scolding, something that had always made Ezra laugh when he caught Crowley doing it. 

Crowley pushed the storefront door open, like was always done in nice weather, and immediately, Baron shot out the glass door between the florist’s feet. 

Ezra could hear Crowley shouting at the fat, fluffy cat as he chased her down the street, scruffing her and walking her back into the shop. Ezra imagined she was meant to be locked in the house. 

Dog was outside in the backyard, on his lead. It truly was a beautiful day, and provided Ezra checked to make sure he had enough water, he would probably be content out there until Adam got home from school. 

Ezra blinked, tore his gaze away from the window before anyone could notice him staring. 

He stood by his decision. Crowley may not have realized how much what he said stung, and Ezra didn’t much feel like explaining it to him. 

He had done enough explaining the basics of a relationship with Crowley. If Crowley couldn’t figure this one thing out, maybe this relationship was doomed. Maybe it just wasn’t meant to be. He wanted to tell himself that they could at least be friends, but he wasn’t even convinced of that. 

Friends needed to trust each other, too. How could Crowley expect to form  _ any _ sorts of relationships if he wasn’t interested in trusting anyone? 

He was going to wind up lonely, and in some ways, Ezra did feel bad about that, but he wasn’t going to be the one to fix that unless something changed. 

He didn’t know what had brought this about. Crowley had opened up to him recently, and then just as suddenly, closed himself off and become even more secretive than he ever had been. 

Ezra grit his teeth and shook his head. 

He needed to get his mind off of Crowley. It wouldn’t do for him to remain distracted all day, he had a bookshop to run and a life to get on with. 

Sometimes relationships didn’t work out. Ezra wasn’t entirely sure if what he had said yesterday was truly a breakup, but he wasn’t entirely sure that it mattered if he had outright said it. 

It would be a breakup if Crowley didn’t march himself across the street and apologize, but the sort of breakup where they both just stopped talking except when someone was picking up their child. 

Maybe that was for the best. 

He wondered if it was for the best even as a pit sunk in his chest. 

He knew, in his mind, that he didn’t think this was for the best. 

He had  _ meant _ it, in the emergency room, when he had said that he  _ loved _ Crowley. It had been a very, very long time since he had felt that way about anyone and it didn’t rip away easily, either. It wasn’t something he could just forget about. 

It wasn’t something that he had wanted to lose. If he could have held onto it forever, he would have, but how could he with a partner that wouldn’t be honest with him? 

He wasn’t in the wrong here, he had to keep telling himself, despite the pit in his stomach. He hadn’t lied, he hadn’t refused to tell Crowley things that were important to their relationship and safety, that was all Crowley. 

_ Crowley _ had outright said that he didn’t trust Ezra.

Ezra wasn’t the bad guy, even if he felt like he was, and he knew that his pain was self-inflicted, and whatever pain Crowley was in was made by his words as well. 

But he wasn’t the bad guy. This was not his fault and he was not going to feel badly for it, no matter how much it hurt either of them. Crowley had brought this down upon them.

Ezra’s conscience was clear, even if he was in pain. He hadn’t done anything wrong. 

He was still telling himself that when the bell clinked at the store door and someone walked in. Ezra looked up. 

There was a man standing in the doorway, a severe look on his face. He had dark hair that was beginning to grey, eyes that didn’t seem blue, seemed darker and more intense. He wore long grey slacks, a lighter turtleneck and a long, well-cut grey jacket and a scarf, despite it not being cold. 

“Hello there, how may I help you?” Ezra asked, walking over towards the door. He smiled as brightly as he could with the darkness in his thoughts distracting him. 

The man seemed startled by Ezra speaking to him. “Oh! Hello. I’m afraid I’m not here to buy a book,” he admitted, frowning. 

“Oh?” Ezra bit his lip. “Then may I ask why you’re here?”

The man smiled, held out a hand. “My name is Gabriel Archer,” he said. 

“Archer… I met someone else named Archer, she was a detective…” Ezra began, and then trailed off. 

“Michael. My sister,” Gabriel explained. He stepped a little further inside. “We work together.”

Ezra looked outside the door. 

He saw a police car parked out front. Crowley had gone from doing whatever in his flower shop to staring at the car and where Gabriel had walked inside. 

It was the same police car that had made Crowley nervous before. 

“A police officer? Have I done something wrong? I certainly hope I haven’t…”

Ezra looked around a little nervously. Gabriel Archer just smiled. "Oh no, you're not in any trouble. I was just wondering," he glanced out the window. 

"What can you tell me about the owner of that flower shop?" Gabriel asked. 

Ezra didn't even know where to begin. "How do you mean?" 

"We're just curious about him and want to know all we can. Do you know him?" 

"Am I being questioned for something?"

Gabriel made an odd face. "Of course not. Neither is he. He's not in trouble, just flagged our attention. Do you know him?"

"We-" Ezra didn't know how to put this with what had happened yesterday. "We're seeing each other, Officer Archer."

"Detective," Gabriel Archer corrected immediately. "Seeing him, you say? For how long?"

"Since the new year," Ezra replied without even thinking of it. "We've been friends since the fall."

Gabriel nodded. "Has he ever… done anything odd?" 

"What do you mean?" 

"Anything that seemed suspicious" Gabriel replied, tone suggesting Ezra was stupid for not understanding. 

"I don't know that I should be telling you anything without knowing why you're asking, Detective Gabriel," Ezra remarked, pursing his lips.

He wasn't liking the direction this was going. "Why do you want to know about Crowley?" 

Gabriel sighed. "Just checking up on some old cases, his name appeared on a few lists and we wanted to check out why." 

Ezra didn't like that one bit. "I think you should go ask him yourself if you want to know about him." 

Off-handedly, he wondered why he was protecting the man who wouldn’t tell him anything about his personal life. Was there really any purpose in protecting Crowley?

But he supposed he wasn’t petty enough to rat Crowley out. 

The officer narrowed his eyes, frowned. “Have you got something to hide from me?” 

“I really don’t think this is appropriate, Detective Archer, coming over here and interrogating me about my partner without telling me what’s going on. I’m afraid that if you’re not going to by purchasing a book, I am going to have to ask you to leave my bookshop,” Ezra decided. 

Gabriel Archer’s face darkened, but he didn’t argue. 

As he stepped out the door, Ezra couldn’t help but think that he probably hadn’t seen the last of the officer. 

He watched the officer walk back to his car, grab something and head towards the flower shop.

Despite himself, he picked up his phone and dialled Crowley’s number. 

“Angel?”

“This is a courtesy call, Crowley, nothing more. The man approaching your shop is a police officer, he was just here talking with me. I didn’t tell him anything that he wanted to know, but he was asking questions about you. I just thought you should be prepared.”

“What was he asking about?” Crowley asked frantically. 

“He said that your name flagged in a couple of old case files, and he was making the rounds about it. He’s probably got a right to be suspicious.”

Ezra didn’t know why he added that last bit, but Crowley’s breath hitched when he said it and he wasn’t sure he liked the way that felt.

  
  


“Are you sure you didn’t tell them anything?” Crowley asked frantically, eyeing the man that was rapidly approaching his shop. 

“I wouldn’t do that, Crowley, no matter how angry with you I am. Now, he’s about to walk in, I should go.” 

Ezra hung up the phone without saying goodbye.

Crowley stuffed his cellphone back into his pocket as the man stepped into the shop. 

He took a deep breath, trying to calm himself down. If he could be calm, he might get through this just fine. 

“Hello, how can I help you?” He asked, forcing a smile at the man who had just stepped in. 

The man looked at him like he was something scraped off the bottom of a shoe. “Anthony J. Crowley?” 

“That’s me!” Crowley said, voice a little off. 

“What does the J stand for?” 

“Does it matter? I don’t know who you are, but-”

“London police. Answer the question.”

Even though he had known, Crowley’s heart skipped a beat. He hadn’t expected the officer to be upfront about it, hadn’t expected to get stronghanded by the  _ law _ to answer. “It’s just Jay, officer-,” he replied, “Anthony Jay Crowley.”

“Detective Archer. Your legal name is Anthony Jay Crowley?” 

“Yes, now what is this about? I don’t believe you can interrogate me without telling me why,” Crowley pointed out. “Isn’t that right, Detective Archer?”

If the detective was going to play his cards, so was Crowley. “I believe you were just interrogating my boyfriend about me without telling him why either. I don’t think that’s allowed.”

Detective Archer frowned. “Been chatting, have you? Preparing your stories?” 

“We’re not currently speaking, Detective. He called to give me warning that you were an officer, since he didn’t think you would announce it. Another thing that is illegal,” Crowley replied. 

Archer frowned even deeper. 

“So, can I ask you why I’m being interrogated, Detective?” Crowley asked, trying for a smile, but he was mostly focused on keeping the shake out of his voice. 

It wasn’t just that he didn’t want to be caught. 

If Bee or Hastur or Ligur or Dagon or  _ anyone _ saw him talking with the police, he would be in an unimaginable amount of trouble. They wouldn’t know what was being talked about, they wouldn’t know he wasn’t stupid enough to try and snitch. 

And his word didn’t count for much with them anymore. 

He needed to get Archer out of his shop, and fast. 

“Your name flagged in a couple of files for unsolved robberies, Mister Crowley. You were interviewed several times, often found in the vicinity.” 

“I was never charged, Detective Archer, just in the wrong place at the wrong time.” 

“Four separate times. Seems you were in the  _ right _ place at the wrong time.” 

“What are you insinuating?” Crowley asked, frowning. 

He knew where this was going, it was exactly where it had always gone when he was interviewed. They suspected he was involved, and  _ of course _ he was involved! Why else would he be in the area every single time? 

But he couldn’t just  _ admit _ that. 

“I’m insinuating that you knew exactly where you were, and it wasn’t coincidence you were found around crime scenes.”

“I was employed in those areas at the time,” Crowley reasoned. 

That wasn’t a lie, either. They had often used Crowley’s transient employment to scope new areas. He often was employed where or near where they hit. 

“But you weren’t on shift,” Detective Archer remarked, seeming like a dog with a bone for this. He wasn’t going to stop until he found something, and Crowley needed him not to. 

“So it’s a crime to be nearby where I work when I’m not working. I feel sorry for those who work in retail, can’t even go shopping in the store nearest them,” he remarked. 

“Are you really mouthing off right now, Mister Crowley?” Detective Archer demanded. 

“I haven’t done anything wrong, Detective. If you read the reports, I had a very good reason to be in each of those locations at the time of the crime, whether you like it or not. I was questioned for this when the crimes went down, and they found me to be innocent then. Do you really expect to find anything different this time?” 

Gabriel’s face split into a grin. “No, I suppose I didn’t. Well, since that’s all taken care of, I suppose I’ll be on my way. Stay out of trouble, Mister Crowley.” 

Crowley watched in stunned silence as Detective Archer left the shop, walked back to his car, sat in the driver’s seat and made a phone call. 

He couldn’t for the life of him figure out what that had been about. He had no idea how to wrap his head around his being interrogated and hten having the subject dropped so easily, almost as though he’d passed a test and ceased to be interesting to the detective. 

He wasn’t complaining. The less suspicious the police were, the better. Crowley wiped his sweating palms on his black apron, ignored the way his hands trembled as he did so. 

He had work to be doing. 

He walked over to a display, hissed at a rose that was starting to droop. 

Then he walked over to his work bench. Someone was coming in to pick up a couple of bouquets later in the afternoon, he needed to have them ready. He got back to work cutting stems and arranging little white flowers that he hated but for some reason everyone wanted them in bouquets, in amongst the real flowers that he was happier to provide. 

He hadn’t asked what the bouquets were for, to be completely honest he hadn’t cared when the phone call had come in that morning. He’d been nursing a headache from the wine he’d drank last night, and nursing a heartache far worse than the ache in his head. 

He was far more occupied thinking about Ezra than he was with actually focusing on his flowers and the order coming in. 

He knew he had meant what he had told Tracy, but he didn’t know how he was going to fix this when he knew he couldn’t tell Ezra anything. The police officer had recentered his priorities, he knew that he needed to keep his promises and his secrets. 

He couldn’t let anything slip out. 

But he didn’t know how to convince Ezra of that without hurting him. It was true that he  _ had _ confided in the bookkeep, more than he ever should have considered sharing, more than could ever be considered safe, and he knew now that Ezra wasn’t going to just let him recant what he had said. 

But how was he going to come up with something that satisfied both needs? 

Would he even be able to do so? Or were they truly doomed? Was there no point in visiting Ezra, because there was nothing he could do to make this right? 

There was no safe option that would satisfy what Ezra wanted. There were things that Crowley couldn’t trust ot Ezra, and things that he never  _ should _ have trusted to Ezra. Ezra shouldn’t know how far over his head he was in, Ezra shouldn’t know the danger he was in. 

Ezra really shouldn’t have known any of it. What if Bee ever found out what he had told Ezra? Or Hastur! 

It could very easily be the end of the bookkeep. 

It wouldn’t be the first trigger Hastur pulled, and Crowley would have no choice but to remain silent if he wanted to keep himself and, more importantly, Warlock safe.

He couldn’t put himself in a position where that could happen. He had to keep everyone he loved safe, there was no other option.

And that meant lying.

Lying was the only way he could keep everyone safe, and if it meant that Ezra hated him, it would be worth it knowing that he wouldn’t turn up dead because Crowley had told him too much of the truth. 

Crowley would suffer if it meant keeping those he loved safe.

It was the only thing he could do, after the damage he had caused. He had to do the honourable thing, no matter how much it hurt to force himself to do it. 

Crowley jabbed his thumb into a rose thorn while he wasn’t paying attention, cursed and stuck his thumb in his mouth. 

He glared down at the rose, irritably picked the thorn off. 

Blasted things. He made sure the blood had stopped by running his thumb under the tap, wrapped it in some gauze and finished making the bouquet, eager to have the roses out of his hands as soon as possible. 

He placed each of the bouquets in water, walked back over to the front desk. 

After his scare with Detective Archer, he  _ wanted _ to just close up shop, but that was unprofessional and he needed to keep up appearances. 

So he forced a smile onto his face as a young lady walked into the shop and started asking about flower language. 

Somedays, he really, really, really  _ hated _ his job.


	22. Chapter 22

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crowley makes some monumentally bad decisions, Ezra deals with the consequences.

Going weeks without speaking was apparently a regular thing with Crowley. 

Ezra realized this when, two weeks after their spat, Crowley still hadn’t come back to the door. 

Perhaps Crowley didn’t think he was welcome back. Ezra almost considered walking over himself, breaking the silence between them, but he truly didn’t want to. The wounds still stung, he wasn’t ready to just forget. Not if Crowley couldn’t even be bothered to come back and apologize. 

He was not going to walk across the street and grovel, not when he hadn’t done anything wrong. Crowley needed to face up and own his mistakes, and if he wouldn’t do that, he couldn’t handle being in a relationship and this was all a waste of everyone’s time and energy. It would be better to learn that now. Before more time and energy were wasted on it. 

Ezra had to admit, he didn’t want to think about it, but he wished it wasn’t going to be a waste of time and energy. He wished he believed that things were going to go back to normal. 

The months spent with Crowley were the happiest he had spent in a long, long time. The happiest he could remember being. He didn’t want to give that up, he didn’t want to lose that. 

He wanted so, so much. Maybe he wanted more than Crowley could give him, maybe he was expecting too much from someone like Crowley. Maybe his ideals of what they needed in their relationship would never line up with what Crowley could give him and they would just have to accept that.

It didn’t mean it wasn’t going to hurt like hell. He had truly thought that he and Crowley could be happy. He was listened to, he was respected, he was  _ loved _ and he felt all of those for Crowley, too. 

And he  _ trusted _ Crowley. He wished that Crowley trusted him. He wished that they could have worked everything out. 

He longed for a world where they could have settled their differences, but with each passing minute when Crowley did not appear at the door, it seemed less and less likely. 

He was trying not to let Adam see how disappointed he was, trying to act as though everything was alright and that nothing had changed.

It wasn't Adam's responsibility to look after him, and he needed to be strong. First and foremost he was Adam's guardian. His own pain was secondary to that responsibility. 

He was going to be a responsible parent, first and foremost. 

Adam was in his room, playing card games with Warlock. He was spending the night, something which had been arranged prior to the fight Ezra'd had with Crowley, and it wasn't like Ezra would have denied it, anyways. It was most certainly not Adam or Warlock's fault that their guardians had hit such a rough patch. They would not be treated any differently, at least not by Ezra. 

He only hoped Crowley felt the same way. 

Ezra busied himself in the kitchen, preparing dinner for the boys and himself. He had offered to order in, but apparently a great many meals across the street had been takeout and Warlock was more interested in the prospect of something homemade. 

Ezra had decidedly opted  _ not _ to indulge himself in any judgement of the Crowley household. He did understand what he had done, did understand that it was possible Crowley was  _ not  _ coping well. He couldn't begrudge the man for not cooking, if regular takeout was something he could afford. 

Crowley opened hundred pound bottles of wine and thought nothing of sharing it with a man he hadn't even officially called a friend yet. Takeout was clearly on the table. 

Not that Ezra could judge him for the wine, either. The more he thought about it, the more it seemed  _ generous _ more than anything. 

Truly, the more he thought about most things Crowley had done, the more he saw of how sweet the florist really was. 

He only wished Crowley could be sweet enough to tell him the truth. Everything could be alright if Crowley would tell him the truth.

If Crowley would just  _ trust him.  _ It wasn't such a difficult request, was it? 

"Ezra?" 

Ezra jumped when he realized Warlock had snuck up on him. "Warlock! You frightened me. What is it, dear?" 

"How have you been?" Warlock asked, "you haven't been around lately." 

Ezra didn't know what to do with that. He was certain Crowley  _ must  _ have told Warlock there was a reason for that, and it was  _ certainly _ not his responsibility to explain it if Crowley hadn't. "I've been well, dear boy. How is your father?" 

"Drunk." 

Ezra's heart sank. "Surely not, the shop was open this afternoon…"

"He doesn't want me to know, but I know. It stinks," Warlock said sagely. "Wine smells bad enough, but this is worse." 

Ezra had to ponder how to answer that. "I'm sorry to hear that."

"You need to talk to him."

Ezra bristled instinctively. "It's not my responsibility to save your father from himself, Warlock. I can call someone for him if you would like, but I'm afraid-"

"He only started when you stopped coming around," Warlock said flatly. 

"Dear boy, your father and I had an… unfortunate exchange, but I'm afraid I can't just stand here and allow you to hold me accountable for Crowley's actions. He's a grown man, Warlock. Now, more importantly, are you alright? He hasn't done anything reckless or dangerous, has he?" 

Ezra wondered if Warlock knew how badly he wanted to let the boy return to the flower shop across the road after the night had passed. He felt it would be hugely irresponsible to send Warlock back to a home with a guardian who was as drunk as Warlock made him sound. 

He reassured himself with the fact that Warlock could have been grossly exaggerating. 

"He's not done anything dangerous," Warlock promised, "I'm just worried about him. Are you sure you can't talk to him? I can't think of anyone else who could help…"

Ezra sighed. "I'll try to think of a way to help, Warlock, I promise. But I'm not going over there to talk, not just yet." 

Warlock nodded and walked back out of the kitchen to resume his card game. 

Ezra found it hard to return to the task at hand. What Warlock had confided weighed heavily with him. 

Eventually, he opted to make a phone call, both in hopes of assuaging his own misgivings and Warlock's.

The phone rang and rang and rang. Ezra imagined it playing the song Crowley had shown him on Halloween from the man's pocket, but no one ever did answer. 

With a sigh, Ezra left a message. 

"Crowley? It's not my place to get involved but Warlock tells me he's worried about you. Mostly your drinking. Please call me back, I'm not entirely sure I can send Warlock back home to you tomorrow if you're truly in such a state as he says, and the last thing I want to have to do is call child protective services. Call me back so we can get this sorted."

It was far from perfect, Ezra knew, but it would do. He hung up.

He wasn’t sure that he would call child protective services on his partner, but he  _ was _ worried about Warlock. Maybe the boy could stay in the bookshop for a little while, if Crowley was truly in such a terrible state. He wondered if Crowley would agree to that, with the way he had reacted to the prospect of Warlock going anywhere else, even temporarily. 

But he had to keep Warlock safe. Even if Crowley didn’t like it, a perpetually drunk guardian wasn’t safe for an eleven year old boy. What if something happened? What if Crowley or Warlock got hurt? 

Hell, people did things they weren’t proud of when they were drunk. 

What if Crowley got  _ violent _ with Warlock? 

It would  _ destroy  _ the poor boy’s home life, even if Crowley did recover and regret it. If something like that happened, life at home would never go back to normal for Warlock, no matter how Crowley tried. 

He couldn’t let that happen. He had to protect Warlock from the consequences of Crowley’s drinking. 

He knew that Crowley probably wasn’t far off an alcoholic, if this was his reaction to the breakup. That was just slightly less concerning than the prospect of what could happen to Warlock. 

Maybe the boy was right. Maybe he  _ did _ need to talk to Crowley. As much as he resented the florist for making this his responsibility, for refusing to cope normally and make this seem as though it was somehow on him, he knew he had to help Warlock. 

He just wasn’t quite sure how he was going to go about that. He couldn’t give the impression that all it took was unhealthy behaviour for Ezra to come back. 

Ezra groaned, buried his face in his hands. 

Trust Crowley to leave him in a situation like this.

Crowley should not have been left unsupervised. 

He had sworn never to use those numbers again, but where else could he  _ go?  _ Who else could he turn to? He couldn't make things right to Ezra, and if he couldn't have an honest, open relationship with the man he  _ loved _ how could he presume to have any others? 

He really only had one chance for people to rely on. 

The sorts of people who were standing at his front door. 

"I didn't expect your call, I'll admit. Figured we were going to drag you out of here kicking and screaming when we finally needed you. What's this about?" Bee asked, cocking an eyebrow 

“You were right. That’s what this is about.” 

“Right about what?” Bee asked, seeming even more confused. 

“That you may not be my first choice, but you’re my only choice if I don’t want to be alone. I can’t be something I’m not. People don’t change, like you said.”

Bee frowned. “What happened? I’m not complaining, but you didn’t sound like this last time we spoke,” they remarked. 

“What do you  _ think, _ Bee? Exactly what you always said was going to happen. Everything is falling apart, and I’m done running. If this is all I’m ever going to be, I might as well embrace it.”

Bee rolled their pale blue eyes. “Okay, but I assume you didn’t call me here to give you a job, you look like you’re three sheets to the wind already. What do you want right now?”

“I just needed to call a friend, Bee. I need to get out of this house and forget about all of this,” Crowley said, waving his eyes around. 

“I didn’t think we were friends.”

“Bee, please.” 

Bee’s face softened, like they were suddenly thinking back to the  _ last _ time Crowley had begged them for help, barely more than a teenager thrown out on his own. When he’d had nowhere else to go, after his parents had thrown him out with only a suitcase to his name. He hadn’t had anyone else to turn to, had needed a roof over his head more than anything, and these were the friends he had turned to. “Fine. Where am I taking you?” They asked.

“I need another drink.” 

“I’m not covering your tab, you’d better know that, Crowley. Get in the car, we’ll pick up Dagon on the way, she’s always down for a bar visit,” Bee decided, “I  _ assume _ that’s where you’re implying we should go, and you’re too pissed to drive yourself there so you called me.”

Crowley considered arguing, but instead he nodded. “That about sums it up,” he admitted, with a heavy sigh. 

“Get in the car, Crowley.” 

He didn’t argue. 

He knew these weren’t who he should have called. He wasn’t  _ proud _ to have called these friends, but if this was all he was ever going to amount to, if his life and how he treated other were always going to fall back on this part of his life, why shouldn’t he at least have friends to turn to, even if they were friends like Bee and Dagon?

He got into the passenger’s seat, let Bee drive in silence to pick up Dagon and get them to a bar. 

“What are you here for, Crowley? Didn’t expect we’d be drinking together since you left.” 

“A reminder that this is the best I’m going to get.” 

“Did the bookshop owner dump you?” 

“I didn’t call because I wanted to talk about it, I called because I wanted to  _ forget _ about it and drinking alone is depressing, Dagon,” Crowley muttered. 

“You could explain one or two things, Crowley, you did say there was  _ no way _ you’d be calling on us again,” Dagon said. 

“And so it turns out you were right when you told me that wouldn’t be true,” Crowley retorted sullenly. “I don’t want to talk about it.” 

“Careful, you’re beginning to sound ungrateful, Crowley,” Bee warned, parking the car and stepping out. 

Crowley didn’t answer them, just got out of the car. 

If he was pissed before, he was three sheets to the wind now, and a strong breeze could have knocked him on his ass, but he didn’t particularly care. 

The pain of realizing that people didn’t change, that lives didn’t change and this was what he was stuck with was beginning to fade. His stomach had started to settle after three shots, and now, he was almost happy to be spending time with these friends. He hadn’t missed them, but any company was better than none, and he was starting to feel better about his prospects. Sure, Bee was being a snot, and Crowley wasn’t stupid, they were  _ very much _ patronizing him, and he knew that both Dagon and Bee had agreed to this because they felt smug watching him crawl back to them, but sometimes crawling was better than standing still on his own.

He knocked back another shot that was placed in front of him. Normally he liked to savour his drinks, but right now, the more numb he could be, the better. He wasn’t interested in taking his time, he was interested in knocking back as many shots as it took to put Ezra out of his mind and get the fuck on with his life. He was a father and a business owner and he had a lot to offer without Ezra by his side. 

He didn’t  _ need _ the shop owner. Just months ago he had been just fine without Ezra, had been just fine on his own with Warlock and friends like Madame Tracy. 

All this was going to be was a wake-up call. A reminder not to rely on people who couldn’t understand, a reminder that  _ he wasn’t good enough _ for the people that didn’t understand. 

So instead of turning to Tracy, he would have to turn to Bee and Dagon. 

He didn’t think he could bring himself to turn to Hastur or Ligur. They had all been involved, but those two had taken the shots. He was raising the orphan their actions had made. 

He couldn’t forgive them for taking away Warlock’s parents. He couldn’t forgive himself, either, but especially not Hastur and Ligur.

How could he? 

But maybe Bee and Dagon would do. Luci would be more content if Crowley was more closely involved, even if to a certain degree it was more dangerous for Warlock and himself he would  _ deal with it. _

He didn’t want to be alone, and he couldn’t involve anyone else. 

“Crowley. I thought you dragged us out here so that you would  _ stop _ brooding. You look far too pensive,” Dagon scolded, placing another glass in front of him. “You’re either going to lose that look or throw up, I guess we’ll have to find out which it’ll be later.  _ You _ wanted to come out here and forget.” 

She was right. Crowley lifted the glass, swallowed it down and let it burn his nose and throat all the way down. It almost made its way  _ back up _ the moment he had swallowed it down, but Crowley swallowed again and the feeling receded. “Forgetting’s not as easy ‘s it used t’ be, Dagon,” he said, tongue not quite cooperating with him anymore. “Little older.”

Dagon shook her head. “Forgetting is the same as it’s always been, Crowley, you’re just not trying.” 

And she walked away. 

Crowley blinked, tried to figure out what she meant by that. 

Wasn’t trying? Of course he was trying, why else would he be here with Bee and Dagon if he wasn’t trying? If he wasn’t trying, why could he no longer walk in a straight line and had to lean against the bar counter to make his way back to Bee just to avoid crashing into the ground? 

He was drunker than he had been in  _ years, _ and this was the most efficient method to forget that he could think of. 

Well, one of them. He wasn’t ready to jump into a different one just yet, he’d need a couple more shots before  _ that _ was a possibility. 

“I take it Dagon pissed you off if you’re back here,” Bee remarked, sipping their drink. “You don’t  _ have _ to cling to us like a lost fucking puppy. If you’re out of cash in your wallet, I’m sure you can convince someone  _ else _ to get you a drink, you’ve done so plenty of times before.” 

“Called you to drink w’ friends, Bee.” 

“We haven’t been friends for a long time, Crowley, more forced acquaintances.” 

They had a point. 

Still, they sighed. “Are you at least feeling a little better?” 

Crowley thought about it, and then shook his head. 

Try as he might, he couldn’t get his mind off of how he had fucked up, couldn’t  _ stop _ focussing on his own pain, the anger he had with himself now that he realized his whole new life was a sham and he was never going anywhere better in his life. 

“Well, you know the solution to that.” 

Crowley flagged the bartender. 


	23. Chapter 23

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some difficult conversations are had, even more difficult decisions are made.

_ Crowley? It's not my place to get involved but Warlock tells me he's worried about you. Mostly your drinking. Please call me back, I'm not entirely sure I can send Warlock back home to you tomorrow if you're truly in such a state as he says, and the last thing I want to have to do is call child protective services. Call me back so we can get this sorted. _

Initially, after he had listened to the message twice and thrown up three times and then gone back to his phone and listened again, Crowley had wanted to be angry. Angry with Ezra for butting in, angry with Warlock for talking to Ezra.

But he realized that he was really just angry with  _ himself _ . Ezra was right. His pounding headache and roiling stomach were a good indicator that this  _ had _ to stop. 

Not to mention who he had called last night. 

In some ways, he didn’t regret contacting Bee. He was indeed less lonely than he had been before. 

It was good to have someone to rely on again. Good to have a friend, even if Bee and Dagon insisted they weren’t his friends, that actually understood and didn’t need to be protected. Dagon and Bee already knew what had happened. They had all been there the day Warlock was orphaned. 

There was no need to  _ hide _ in front of Bee or Dagon. He had to hide from Ezra.

Crowley opted not to call back. He instead, after drinking some water and taking an aspirin, and one last emergency run to the toilet, hurling what he  _ hoped  _ was the last of what was going to come up out into the toilet. 

Then he pulled on his sunglasses, which did nothing for his headache, and walked across the road. 

He knocked on Ezra's door. 

Ezra opened in a few seconds later. "You look like death, Crowley."

"Good thing I'm not your problem anymore," Crowley muttered, pressing a hand against his forehead. "Rid yourself of that problem, didn't you?"

Ezra's face softened, just a little. "That's  _ not  _ what I said, Crowley," he said gently, grey-green eyes soft. "I never meant to say that, I've been waiting for you to call," he admitted. 

Crowley was taken aback. "Call?"

"I'm sorry I made it feel like you couldn't, but I didn't mean to imply that you couldn't come back, or call," Ezra said. 

"I- I can't make things any better," Crowley admitted, defeated. "I already told you too much, it's too dangerous to tell you more. I can't trust it to you." 

"But do you trust me with what I already know?"

"I haven't got a choice, have I?" Crowley asked, voice blithe. "Yes, I do." 

Ezra sighed. "Come in, Crowley, the boys are eating pancakes in the dining room." 

"Is Warlock okay?"

"Come sit down." 

Ezra lead him into the living room, saw Crowley wincing in pain and closed the curtains. 

"I assume Warlock was right," he supposed, taking a seat in his usual chair..

Crowley flopped onto the couch. He simply nodded. "Hard to mistake," he muttered, "although unless I've gotten worse at hiding glasses, it's a shame Warlock knows the smell of scotch." 

"I suspect he only recognized that it was alcoholic, Crowley."

Ezra's voice grew stern, serious. "You can't do this to me, dear boy, it isn't fair of you," he remarked. 

"Do what?"

"You can't make me responsible for your actions like this, Crowley. I  _ know  _ why the drinking started, and it isn't fair of you. It's manipulative and cruel and make no mistake, if this doesn't improve I  _ will  _ call child protective services on you. I can't come around and clean up every mess you make, this has to stop."

Crowley allowed himself to be lectured, keeping his head bowed. "I'm sorry, angel," he muttered, "I  _ knew  _ it was stupid but-"

"There won't be any buts, Crowley, I expect this to stop. You've put me in an  _ incredibly  _ difficult position, not only with you but with Warlock too and I don't appreciate it. Get yourself to an AA meeting, hell, I'll drive you if you need, dump the rest of your scotch or do whatever else you think will make the drinking stop."

"I'm  _ not  _ an alcoholic." 

"Crowley, that's exactly what alcoholics say," Ezra said, infuriatingly right. 

"I don't  _ think  _ I am _.  _ Think I just made a bad decision," Crowley mumbled. 

"Why, Crowley? Surely you've fought with partners before."

"Not one I was serious about," Crowley said softly, "sides, you were  _ right.  _ I've done too much wrong to be trusted, and it means I can't trust others. The old friends I saw last night are the best I deserve. People don't change."

There was silence for a long while, long enough to make Crowley uncomfortable. 

He wondered what was running through Ezra's head, what words he was going to get thrown back in his face.

"Tell me you didn't call the old friends you've told me about, Crowley," Ezra said finally, voice pleading. 

Crowley just looked away, ashamed. 

"Crowley, I'm trying really hard here to trust you but then you go and do something like that!" Ezra scolded. 

"I don't deserve your trust. Or friendship or partnership. I'm just like those old friends I'm just pretending not to be! My hands are as red as theirs, angel, why should I get to pretend to wash them clean?" 

"You're calling old friends and avoiding your new ones because you don't think you  _ deserve _ good friends?" Ezra asked, frowning. 

"I shouldn't try to…  _ infiltrate  _ places I don't belong. I had a chance to decide what I was worth and I turned to crime."

"And now you're a father and a successful florist. You're not infiltrating anything, Crowley, because you're wrong, people  _ do  _ change. “

"They won't let me. I'm not convinced this is the last time they'll call on me, Ezra, and there's nothing I can do. If I tell… anyone  _ anything _ about them, I'll lose everything and maybe I deserve that, too!" He spat the last words with obvious viciousness towards himself. Ezra winced. "Maybe all of this  _ should  _ fall apart. Why should I get to be happy?"

Ezra sighed. "I'm not the person for you to talk to about this, Crowley. I can listen to your woes but I'm not a therapist and I can't make you believe that you deserve the life you have. That's on you. What I  _ can  _ do is look after Warlock for the next few days while you get… whatever this is sorted. And if you come back ready to talk open-mindedly about our relationship, I would be open to that too. But for now, I think you should go home, recover from this hangover and clean up the mess you've spent the last few weeks making." 

Crowley expected that offer was far more than fair. More than he deserved. "Can I talk to him?" 

"You haven't lost custody, Crowley, if you would like you can bring him home, I just-"

"He's better off here, with you, somewhere stable. For now. But… can I speak with him?"

"I'll go get him," Ezra replied, and he walked out of the living room. 

A few moments later, Warlock, still clad in his pyjamas, stepped in. "I'm not in trouble, am I?" 

Crowley stared at him. "For what?" 

"Telling Ezra you were drinking." 

Crowley shook his head, patted the couch beside him. "I'm not angry, Warlock, I promise. Come sit with me? Or do I smell way worse than I think I do and you don’t want to be anywhere near me?"

Warlock didn't say anything about the smell of stale alcohol and vomit that Crowley knew was clinging to him like a fog. "You're not in trouble, Warlock, quite the opposite. I wanted to thank you," he whispered, pulling his arms around the boy. " _ Thank you _ for telling someone. I haven't been a fit guardian and I'm  _ glad _ you told someone who would do something about it. I've made a lot of stupid choices lately, I won't deny it." 

"Everyone makes dumb choices." 

"I’m not supposed to make dumb choices when they hurt you. I haven't… I'm afraid the last few weeks are a bit fuzzy. I haven't… done anything to hurt you, to scare you, have I?" Crowley asked fearfully. 

"No Anthony, you've barely even raised your voice with me," Warlock promised, "you've just seemed… sad."

"Thank the Lord," Crowley whispered, holding onto Warlock a little tighter. "I couldn't stand it if I- I'm so sorry, Warlock, I'm so fucking sorry," he breathed, feeling tears gather in his voice. "I know I've made a mess of things but I swear to you, I'm going to set things right. Things are going to go back to normal and I won't ever do this to you again, I promise."

"I believe you, Anthony." 

"But for now… I think it would be best if you stayed with Ezra for a few days. Just until I get everything sorted out and back to normal. I don't want you exposed to the environment I've made our flat into for any longer than you've already been. I need a couple of days to clean up my mess, and then everything can go back to normal." 

"Will you visit in the evenings?"

Crowley hesitated at that. "I'm not sure Ezra would like that very much." 

"On the contrary, I was just coming in to suggest that we arrange dinner here while Warlock is staying with me. He should still be able to see you and I won't keep you away from him. You could come by in the evenings, see him off to bed, and spend the mornings and afternoons doing what you need to do," Ezra suggested. 

Crowley looked up at him in surprise from where he was seated on the couch, holding tightly to Warlock. 

"I think it will do you good to still see him while you're sorting things out, and you're his father, Crowley, unless another term would suit you better at the moment. You have the right to spend time with him and I believe you're good for him and will resume being good for him once you've cleaned this mess up."

Crowley looked down at Warlock. "I'm not always sure that I'm good for you," he admitted softly, staring intently at the boy. 

"You're the best dad I could ask for, and I don't just say that because you're the only one I've got, Anthony,” Warlock promised, “a far cry better than the dad I had in the first place, who left me in when I was two.”

Crowley seemed a little uncomfortable as Warlock mentioned that, but he nodded. 

“I’m sorry, Warlock, I really am,” he muttered, “sorry I messed this up, sorry I couldn’t be responsible enough to look after you. A few days with Ezra is going to do you good, and I’m going to make our home somewhere you feel safe again.”

Ezra’s heart almost broke at the broken look in Crowley’s eyes as he held tightly to his son. 

He realized even more now just how important that phone call he had made was. He regretted having told Warlock that he wouldn’t make it. 

It hadn’t only helped Warlock. Clearly Crowley had needed a wake-up call as well. He clearly hadn’t  _ wanted  _ to have dropped the ball, to have worried Warlock, but he had needed someone to tell him there was a problem. Had needed a reminder that he had responsibilities, that he needed to shape up and be a father no matter how much he was hurting.

Ezra did feel a little responsible for having caused the hurt, but he knew Crowley’s reaction to it was not his fault. Crowley was a grown man, he needed to be responsible for his own actions. 

“I should go, start getting the house cleaned up. Or sleep this off, one of the two.”

“There’s plenty of pancakes, you could stay for breakfast,” Warlock offered. 

Crowley shook his head, looking woozy at the mere suggestion. “I don’t think pancakes are going to agree with me right now, Warlock. On that note, I don’t think anything is going to agree with me.  _ Maybe _ the greasiest thing I can think of, and I don’t think Ezra’s pancakes will hit that mark, as good as they are.”

“I don’t think I ever want to get drunk, if you can’t eat pancakes after,” 

“I won’t hold that to you, Warlock, we’ll see when you’re older. If that is your decision, though, kudos to you,” Crowley said, and pressed a kiss to Warlock’s forehead. “Are you alright staying here with Ezra for a little bit? I think it would be better for you, but it’s up to you.”

Warlock pondered that for a moment. “I think I’d be alright to stay here if you need some time,” he decided. 

“I’m sorry, Warlock, this shouldn’t have happened and it  _ won’t _ happen again.”

“I know it won’t, Anthony. Now seriously, if you aren’t going back to sleep, take a shower. You smell  _ terrible.” _

“I do,” Crowley agreed mournfully, and after giving Warlock one more squeeze he stood up from the couch. “I see you tonight, alright?” 

“See you then, Anthony,” Warlock agreed. 

Ezra followed Crowley back into the doorway. “I can’t thank you enough, Ezra,” Crowley said quietly. 

“Thank me by  _ actually _ taking this seriously, Crowley. Keep your promise and make this the last time, go it? There are healthier coping mechanisms. And… I have a number for an office, if you need someone to talk to. I have a feeling there’s a  _ lot _ more going on here than just our argument,” Ezra offered. 

Crowley visibly recoiled at the suggestion, which Ezra was expecting. Adam hadn’t initially liked the idea, either. “It’s just a thought, Crowley, you obviously don’t have to take the number. But if you’re ever interested….”

“I’ll keep it in mind,” Crowley said quickly, and Ezra knew that he would forget about it as soon as he was able. 

He didn’t mind. If it seemed relevant, he would bring it up again later. “Dinner will be sometime around 6:30, don’t worry about cooking anything. If you’re up to it you can contribute tomorrow, but for today, just get some rest. You look  _ awful.  _ Honestly, why  _ did _ you get up this early?”

“Warlock was supposed to be coming home after breakfast,” Crowley replied, “not to mention I listened to your message when I got home around two and couldn’t sleep. Really, the company I was keeping last night, I should be glad I woke up  _ alone _ and in  _ my own flat.” _

Though he was certain he wouldn’t find that funny if it had  _ actually _ happened, Ezra laughed. “Thank the Lord for small miracles?”

“Never was a godly one, I think I’ll have to thank someone else,” Crowley replied, then stepped out the door. “I’ll see you this evening. Thanks again, angel. For looking after Warlock, and for calling.”

Ezra nodded. “Now you go get some sleep.” 

Crowley turned to walk himself back across the road, and Ezra closed the door behind him. 

He let out a deep sigh of relief. He had worried he wouldn’t get through to Crowley, would wind up  _ having _ to call family services and get Warlock placed somewhere safe. 

And he really hadn’t wanted to need to do that. He was more than happy to look after the boy for a few days while his father cleaned things up.

Ezra stepped back into the sitting room, contemplated Warlock. “Are you alright, dear boy?” He asked. 

“I think we’re going to be okay now, Ezra, thank you for talking to him,” Warlock decided, “but I’ve just realized I don’t have any fresh clothes here.” 

Ezra smiled. “Why don’t we have a bit of a pyjama day instead, Warlock, I think we should avoid bothering Crowley for a little bit, he could use some rest. We can put on some movies or go out, whatever you’d like, but I’ll just ask Crowley to bring you some clothes when he comes back for the evening.” 

“Is Anthony going to be okay?” Warlock asked nervously, looking up at Ezra with fear in his grey eyes. “I’m worried about him.”

“He’s going to be alright, Warlock, he just needs a little time,” Ezra said, sitting down beside Warlock. “He’s going through a lot right now, but he’s going to be alright.”

Warlock nodded. “Is this just because you fought?”

Ezra shook his head. “I don’t think it is, Warlock, I think there’s a lot more at play here,” he admitted, “your father has a lot going on in his life, and I don’t think it’s doing him much good right now.”

Warlock nodded. “I think I’d just like to stay in today.”

“Ezra, we’re supposed to go to school,” Adam said, walking into the room. 

Ezra shook his head. “No, I don’t think anyone is going to school today,” he decided, “we’ve all had a stressful few days and I think it would do us good to have a day to relax. We’re going to put on some old films, and have a pyjama day. Crowley is coming over for dinner tonight, and we do  _ not _ tell him that I let you two stay home from school today,” Ezra instructed. 

Crowley would know as soon as he realized that Warlock didn't have his school uniform, unless he thought he had borrowed clothes from Adam. 

Adam and Warlock both nodded. “Mum’s the word, Ezra,” Adam promised, "how long is Warlock staying?"

Ezra took a deep breath. "Anthony needs a little time to get things sorted, we're going to have Warlock as our guest until he has."

He tried to convey that Adam shouldn't keep pressing. It wasn't really his business what Warlock's father was going through, and he didn't want to embarrass Warlock or Crowley. 

Thankfully, Adam simply nodded. "Well, I guess I'll go get my pyjamas back on, if we're having a pyjama party." 

Ezra nodded. "What film should we start with?"


	24. Chapter 24

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crowley comes over for dinner, Ezra makes a generous suggestion.

Crowley went directly back to bed when he got back home from Ezra’s. 

He had a message on his phone that he didn't want to check, he knew it was from someone he had seen last night, so either he had given out his number to a total stranger or it was Bee, rubbing his bad decision in his face. 

He didn't need to deal with either of those possibilities right now. He threw his phone at the nightstand, it skidded across the glossy surface and crashed to the ground behind the stand. 

He sighed, decided he didn't have the energy to pull it out at the moment, and flopped down onto the bed. 

Despite his roiling stomach, he was asleep before he knew it.

His sleep was disturbed and restless, but it was sleep nonetheless. Even waking up with his headache still pounding behind his eyes, he felt a lot better. 

He sauntered into the kitchen, eyed the open bottle of scotch on the counter.

Shook his head. Ezra was right. He tipped the bottle over into the sink, let the scotch bottle drain. 

It occurred to him, yes, that it was a waste of alcohol and money, but he didn't trust that he would leave it alone if he kept it. 

The alcoholic comment had stung. He  _ wasn't  _ an alcoholic. It was a moment of weakness, and he didn't need to get busy clearing out all the wine and spirits in his flat. 

He just had to  _ leave them alone _ for the day.

His first step was to wander the flat and collect any glasses lying around, rinsing them out and sticking them in the washer. 

He knew that he had been sent home without Warlock because he needed to clean  _ himself  _ up, not because the flat was actually a mess. He needed to shower, brush his teeth and take a couple of days to get back to being himself. He wasn't a good influence for Warlock, and at least he had had someone to point that out and stop him. 

Well, he could start with a shower without much fuss. He had slept in last night's clothes and hadn't changed when he woke up, it was high time he got the jeans someone had spilled something  _ warm  _ on, and the bar hadn't been serving coffee.

He had tried not to pay too much attention to that spill. 

He peeled off the skin-tight jeans, threw them directly into the laundry machine with his bedding and shirt and set it to  _ Heavy Duty.  _

Then he got himself in the shower. He couldn't quite remember the last time he had showered, but his hair stayed in the bun he had the top tied in and that wasn't reassuring. 

He let the hot water run down his back, wash off grime and dampen the stench of alcohol and vomit and sweat. 

He started with a shower, but wound up turning off the showerhead and filling the tub. He still felt more nauseous standing than sitting, and could use a good soak. 

He scrubbed shampoo into his scalp, cleaned the smell of vomit and alcohol off of himself, and then leaned back against the edge of the tub.

He didn't know how long he stayed in the tub, until his fingers went pruny and the water was going cold. 

He sighed, rung his hair out and wrapped it in a towel, pulled another around his waist. 

He drained the tub, walked back into his bedroom and got himself into some fresh clothes. 

Then he fished his phone out from behind the nightstand. 

He did have a message, one from Bee, which he deleted, and a text from Ezra. 

_ Would you bring Warlock some clothes and his school uniform when you come over for dinner?  _

Crowley hadn't even thought about Warlock's clothes. Either he wasn't at school or he was wearing one of Adam's uniforms. 

Crowley supposed it was fair if Warlock  _ wasn't  _ at school. After all, it wasn't like the flower shop was going to be open in the near future. He needed some time off.

The other message was from the truancy officer, so Warlock was definitely not in school.

He sent Ezra a thumbs up in return, moved the laundry over from the washer to the dryer. He wondered if he had any other laundry that needed to get done, decided it would wait until tomorrow when he felt less like garbage. He didn't feel like he was going to throw up anymore, but he still had a headache.

Crowley walked into the kitchen and poured another glass of water, took another aspirin. Then he made his way back to the sitting room, turned on some garbage show and flopped down on the couch.

Before he let the garbage television show distract him he sent another text.

_ I screwed up last night, Bee, don't contact me until the job. _

He knew there was going to be a snide comment in return. He knew Bee was going to be nasty about this, he knew that he wouldn't get rid of the torment he had brought on himself for a while. 

It didn't mean that he wanted to deal with it. He threw his phone to the side and let himself get distracted by pointless television. His phone buzzed, but he ignored it.

He didn't want to deal with Bee being nasty. Didn't have the energy. 

Around 5:30, he walked up the stairs into Warlock's room and pulled out some pairs of clothes he knew the boy liked, as well as his school uniform, and packed them into a suitcase. He packed a few toys Warlock liked as well, and a stuffed animal he still slept holding onto.

The stuffed toy made him smile. It was the first he had ever given Warlock, the first thing he had bought the boy while he was trying to adjust to being a father. Driving home with the toddler strapped as tightly into the backseat as possible, mind racing ten miles a minute whole he tried to process what had just happened, the wrench he had just thrown into his life. he had purchased a car seat and a stuffed bear. He hadn't even known if the boy liked stuffed toys, but it was still a hit, going on ten years later. 

He zipped the suitcase shut. 

He purposefully brought to mind thoughts of the vacations he had brought Warlock on while he considered the suitcase, not the fact that it was still his old one from when he had moved out of his parents' house. He could have replaced it, easily, but every time he thought about it, he forgot a little later. 

He carried it back down the stairs, glanced at the clock. 

5:45. He did not want to be early, wasn't even convinced he should go for on time. He was invading Ezra's space, no matter how much they tried to pretend he wasn't. 

Crowley managed to sit with minimal twitching for another 18 minutes before he grabbed his phone and the suitcase and walked across the street to the bookshop. 

He knocked on the door, Warlock pulled it open. "Anthony! You're back!"

He got another hug, almost tighter than the morning. "I am. I brought you some fresh clothes, about three days worth. I'm hoping everything will be handled in the days," Crowley muttered. 

"Are you feeling better?" 

"Well, I actually made it over for dinner, that must count for something," Crowley said, a dry smile curling his lips. "Be the first I eat all day, but at least I don't feel ill thinking about it." 

"You were really sick, weren't you?" Warlock asked, eyes wide. 

Crowley nodded. "Scotch will do that to you," he agreed, "did you have a nice day?"

"It was an easy day at school," Warlock confirmed. 

He was wearing exactly what he had been in the morning, and Crowley had gotten a call from the truancy officer, so he shook his head. "I would appreciate it if you actually went tomorrow, Warlock. But if you want a few days to rest to go with mine, I'll tell the school you're sick next time they call." 

"I didn't have my uniform and it was a bit of a long morning," Warlock said quietly. 

"I'm not annoyed in the slightest, Warlock, promise. I knew you didn't have your uniform. I hope you had a good day. I'm sorry again for leaving you here." 

"It's alright, Anthony. Now come on inside, Ezra's made enchiladas and they smell  _ amazing." _

Warlock pulled Crowley through the door and into the kitchen. "Anthony's here!" 

"I'm not too early, am I?" Crowley asked nervously, a hand reaching up subconsciously to rub at the back of his neck. It was then that he realized he hadn't done anything with his hair after he washed it, and regretted not having a brush on him. He probably looked a fright. 

Then again, Ezra had last seen him hungover and in jeans that had been vomited on. This was an improvement. 

"Of course not, dear boy, I've just finished cooking and was going to give you a call," Ezra replied, turning around to face Crowley. 

He looked like less of a mess than he had in the morning, although he still hadn’t brushed his hair. 

Still, it was good to see that he had showered and probably gotten more sleep. He had an arm around Warlock’s shoulder, and it settled Ezra to see that. 

He loved that boy a lot, it was plain to see. Everything that had happened over the past few weeks was a mistake, not something he would do intentionally. He would never neglect or frighten Warlock intentionally. 

He smiled. “Do take a seat, I’ll just call Adam and we’re ready to eat!” 

Warlock still seemed to be guiding Crowley around for the most part, but he did take a seat, and that was really what mattered. 

“Adam, dinner time!”

Ezra supposed Crowley was just as nervous and awkward about this as he was. They  _ had _ fought, and there had been no making up before this arrangement had happened. Now Warlock was living in the bookshop and had led to Crowley being invited over for dinner even though the two adults were barely speaking.

He did his best to set his guest at ease, being as calm and unintimidating as he could be as he moved the casserole dish full of enchiladas with bubbly cheese onto the table. Warlock smiled up at him. 

“They look even better than they smell!” He declared, waiting for plates and the spatula to be distributed before he helped himself to one of the enchiladas. 

Ezra smiled. Adam made his way back from his room and joined them at the table. 

Ezra eyed Crowley. “Has your stomach settled enough for this? I could make you some soup if it would be easier, or just some toast,” he offered, careful not to mention  _ why  _ Crowley’s stomach had been upset.

Warlock already knew, and the neighbour’s health and bad decisions were none of Adam’s business. 

Crowley smiled at him. “This should be fine, Ezra. It looks great.” 

Unsurprisingly, Crowley ate about half an enchilada before he passed the rest to Warlock. Ezra had no idea if that was due to the hangover or him simply not being hungry anymore. 

With Crowley, it was equally likely to be either. He never did eat very much. 

Adam cleared out after dinner, as though he sensed that Warlock would want to spend some time with his father and that he shouldn’t intrude. 

Even so, Crowley must have felt bad, given that he suggested a board game, and Ezra didn’t even know he  _ liked _ board games. Adam played a couple of rounds of  _ Apples to Apples _ before claiming he had homework and returning to his room. 

Neither Crowley nor Ezra remarked on it, but it was very clear that he was still trying to give Warlock some privacy. Ezra appreciated the consideration on Adam’s part.

Warlock was sitting on the couch, about as close to his father as he could possibly get, leaned against Crowley’s shoulder. Crowley smiled at him. 

“I think I’ll go make some tea,” Ezra decided, looking around the room. “Warlock, would you prefer cocoa? Or Crowley, for that matter.” 

Crowley shook his head. “Tea is fine, angel.”

Warlock, on the other hand, brightened at the prospect of cocoa.

“Alright, tea for Crowley, cocoa for Warlock.”

And he too, stepped out of the room to give Warlock some personal time with his father. 

He poked his head into Adam’s room. “Do you want some cocoa, Adam?” He asked. 

Adam looked up from the book he was ready. “Sounds great, Ezra.”

He didn’t appear to be finished speaking, though.

“Is something bothering you, Adam?” He asked, stepping a little further into Adam’s room. 

“It’s just that… Crowley and Warlock are in a lot of trouble, aren’t they?” Adam asked, looking up at Ezra in concern. 

Ezra went and sat himself down on Adam’s bed, next to the boy. “They’re in a bit of trouble, yes, but nothing they can’t get through. Are you concerned for your friend? It’s perfectly normal to be worried about our friends.”

“Are you worried about Crowley?” 

Ezra nodded without even thinking about it. “I am, but I also believe that he’s going to deal with this properly. I firmly believe that things are going to get better for Crowley  _ and _ Warlock, and our job is to be here for them while they recover, alright? You’ve been an excellent friend for Warlock, and I’m sure he’s glad for your support right now.”

Adam nodded. “I just… I guess I’m just worried about Crowley and Warlock. Mostly Warlock, he doesn’t seem very well,” he admitted. 

“I’m sure he’ll feel better when Crowley gets everything sorted out.”

“I hope so.” 

They sat in silence for a while. “I promised Crowley and Warlock tea and cocoa, did you want to help me make it?” Ezra offered. 

Cooking together seemed to be one form of bonding that Adam didn’t normally shy away from, Ezra asked him to join in at every opportunity he got. 

Adam nodded, and Ezra led him into the kitchen, had him measure out the ingredients for hot cocoa while he got the kettle boiling and picked out a tea he knew Crowley liked. 

When the cocoa was ready, with marshmallows floating at the top, and the tea was finished brewing, Adam picked up his mug to go back to his room.

Ezra stopped him, held his arms out for a hug. 

He didn’t often initiate hugs, he knew Adam still wasn’t too sure on him, but the boy accepted. 

“Thank you for being so understanding about this, Adam, I know it’s a little weird,” he murmured, “this isn’t easy for anyone, and don’t think I’ve forgotten that it’s not easy for  _ you, _ either.” 

Adam nodded, and eventually pulled away from Ezra and went back to his room.

Ezra carried the remaining mugs into the sitting room, handed them out to Crowley and Warlock and kept his own tea in his hands. Both thanked him.

Ezra couldn’t help but feel that he was intruding just by being in the same room. Sure, Warlock and Crowley had come to visit in the past, but Warlock had still been living with his father during that. 

This was different. For the next couple of days, this was going to be the only sort of time that Warlock could spend with his father. 

Ezra did his best to simply mind his own affairs, putter around the room, taking care of things he had meant to deal with before while Crowley and Warlock talked. 

“Ezra? Can I get a hand?” Crowley asked, and Ezra finally looked back over at the father and son sitting in his living room. 

Warlock had fallen asleep, curled up against Crowley’s chest, cocoa only half-finished. Crowley was trying to get out from under him, probably so that he could go home and finish intruding on his currently strained relationship with Ezra, without waking the boy. “He hasn’t done this since he was little,” he admitted, sounding a little nostalgic. “He used to get these terrible stomach bugs and he would fall asleep in my arms, and then of course I would wake up the next morning to a crick in the neck and a stomach bug of my own, but at least he slept through the night that way. Other times he’d have a nightmare, he was never allowed in my room but he’d drag me off to sleep beside him so the nightmares couldn’t come back…”

Ezra shook his head. He could see the look on Crowley’s face, plain as day, could see how much he didn’t want to disturb Warlock, wanted to just let him sleep and have it be like old times. “I’ll just get you both some blankets,” he decided, “we’re far too likely to wake him if we try to move him, and I don’t mind, as long as you’re alright sleeping on the couch again.” 

“I really don’t want to overstay my welcome, angel,” Crowley said awkwardly, “I’ve asked a lot of you lately and I don’t want to impose any more than I already am.”

Ezra shook his head again. “Hardly an imposition if I’m offering, Crowley. He looks comfortable and you look like you could use the chance to be a father right now,” he said, not unkindly. 

Crowley looked down at Warlock, settled back against the couch. “You are right,” he agreed, “‘s good to know I haven’t screwed… everything up. ‘M still his dad.”

Ezra nodded. “Then I see no reason why you shouldn’t stay. You can help me get the boys off to school tomorrow morning before you head back home and continue looking after yourself.” 

A sudden flash of doubt hit Ezra. “You are looking after yourself, right?” 

Crowley smiled and nodded. “I am, angel, I just needed a reminder to do it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If the next chapter is late I'm so so so sorry, I've got it half written and I'm praying I don't fall off my schedule but I've had a lot to do lately.


	25. Chapter 25

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Few things here. One, I'm sorry for missing Wednesday, I really was trying I promise. Also this chapter is shorter than it should be.   
> Additionally, I've fallen waaay behind on this story and am starting a new job as well as a new writing project, and for that reason I'm taking the next week off. I'm going to try to be back by Wednesday the 22nd, but from there I may find myself needing to drop to one chapter a week.   
> I'm really sorry, I've just finally hit the end of where I can keep up with this schedule.

"Ezra?" 

Ezra whirled around, surprised Crowley had managed to sneak up on him. "Yes, dear boy?"

"Girl," Crowley said automatically, as she had promised she would. 

"Dear girl, you startled me. I wasn't expecting you until dinner!" 

"I think Warlock can come home tonight."

Crowley almost sounded hesitant to say it, like she thought Ezra would refuse. Ezra was obviously not going to deny Crowley the chance to bring her son home. As soon as she felt ready, she was welcome to bring Warlock home. 

"I think that would be wonderful for you both. Would you still like to stay for dinner? I made quite a lot if it's going to be just Adam and I," Ezra offered. 

"There's more I'd like to talk about," Crowley admitted, cutting off the talk of dinner without giving an answer. 

"And what is that, dear?" Ezra asked. 

"I'd like to talk about…  _ us," _ Crowley admitted, very, very softly, almost like she was embarrassed or scared to bring it up. 

She probably was nervous to find out how Ezra was going to react. 

Ezra smiled. "Certainly, we should do that. Shall I make some tea?" He offered, motioning for them to go to the sitting room. 

Crowley was moving stiffly, nervously. Ezra couldn’t help but feel bad about it. “You can relax, dear. I’m not here to yell at you, we’re here to talk. Like civilized people.”

Crowley nodded, took a hesitant seat on the couch where she normally sat. Ezra sat himself down across from her, but when Crowley continued to seem nervous he moved to sit beside her. He didn't want her to feel trapped. 

She seemed to relax a little, took a deep breath. "I'm sorry, Ezra," she started, and seemed like she was about to continue but didn't know what else to say. 

"I know you are, dear."

"I shouldn't have said I don't trust you. I  _ do, _ Ezra, I really do. Maybe I regret having told you some of what I have, but it’s more because it could put you in danger than because I don’t trust you. There’s things that I can’t trust to you, true, things that I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to tell  _ anyone. _ But as much as I can, I trust you. And I’m sorry I said I don’t. I was scared and it’s not an excuse.”

Ezra took a moment to absorb what was being said. “I don’t think we’re ever going to come to an  _ agreement _ on how much we should trust each other,” he allowed, “I don’t have experience with this sort of situation. I don’t have the experience to know if you’re being fair, or if I’m being unreasonable.”

Crowley didn’t say anything. She seemed to be getting more fidgety by the second. 

“But I do believe that this  _ means _ something to you. I’m just not entirely sure that’s  _ enough-”  _

Crowley flinched. 

“I’m not done yet. I don’t know if this  _ meaning _ something to you is enough to base this entire relationship on, true. But like I said, Crowley, I don’t know anything about the situation we’re in. This is all new to me, and I think this is new to you, too,” Ezra said, and the look on Crowley’s face confirmed that was true. It was plain to see that the florist was just as lost as he was. 

“So, and three weeks ago I would have hated myself for deciding this, if we can come to certain agreements, we can give this another chance, if that’s something you’re interested in,” Ezra said finally. 

Crowley was silent for a very long time. So long that Ezra thought that maybe she didn’t  _ have _ an answer for him. Thought that maybe he had overwhelmed her, or that his words had stirred up more worry and pain. 

“You’ve already seen me at my best, and it isn’t good enough,” Crowley said quietly.

“You don’t know that I’ve seen the best of you.” 

“With what I’ve done… I can’t get any better. I don’t stand a chance of getting any better,” Crowley said, “there are things we do in life that  _ mean _ we don’t get any better. I’m  _ unforgivable.” _

“I forgive you. No one is unforgivable," Ezra murmured. 

"I won't even tell you what I've done, Ezra." 

"I don't care what you've done. You've told me what I need to know, you’ve told me the risks. You’ve told me  _ more _ than that, even if you don’t want to admit that you have. I have to stop pushing you over this Crowley, and we both know it. In the end, I don’t  _ care.  _ I’ve learned the risks, and I haven’t left you yet. And… I can be content with only knowing that,” Ezra decided, “I can be content if you’ve trusted me with everything you can tell me.” 

“You deserve someone  _ better,” _ Crowley said softly, but she seemed hopeful nonetheless. “There’s things I can never tell anyone and I  _ hate _ that. I don’t want to be the sort of person who can’t tell anyone my past. I don’t  _ want _ to be the sort of person that I  _ am, _ Ezra.”

“That’s not a choice you can take back, Crowley, that’s a choice you made when you were young. I’m not saying it was a good choice, I have a feeling we both feel similarly about it, but it was the choice you made when you were young and without anywhere else to go, and I won’t hold it against you. There’s nothing you  _ can _ do about the past, Crowley, and if things from your past are too dangerous to discuss then we’re going to have to agree not to talk about it. There’s no other way.”

Crowley nodded. “I’m sorry, angel, I really am. I trust you more than I’ve ever trusted anyone else before and I think it  _ scares _ me, Ezra. It  _ scares _ me that there are times when I can talk to you without considering consequences. It makes me nervous that I’m going to say something I shouldn’t.”

“Because they’ll find out.” 

“I'm so far over my head without them knowing that I’ve snitched to  _ anyone. _ Even if it’s someone I  _ know _ won’t say anything. Even if it’s someone I trust. If they ever found out what I’ve told you… It’s not just me who would pay, angel. I  _ would _ pay, don’t doubt that, but they would come for Warlock and you, too.” 

“Why Warlock?” 

“I can’t tell you, Ezra. I can’t tell you why they would involve Warlock, but they would. In a heartbeat. Believe me.”

Ezra did believe her. The fear in her voice left no room for doubting her. She truly did believe that harm would befall Warlock if anyone ever found out what she had said, and to Ezra, it didn’t  _ matter _ if she was actually right. If it was something she was afraid of, it might as well be true, the way it was going to affect what she did. 

So Ezra nodded. “We’re both going to have to adjust for this to work. You being comfortable with someone  _ knowing _ more than you want them to, and me with not being able to know some things about you,” he decided, “but I think we can do it.”

“I’m sorry, Ezra,” Crowley said again. Ezra frowned. 

“Stop apologizing, Crowley, really, you’ve apologized already. You needn’t continue,” Ezra said gently, placing a hand against Crowley’s shoulder. “Things are  _ complicated. _ More than either of us wanted it to be, but we can’t change that. We may as well just accept it.” 

Crowley nodded. “I know. It doesn’t mean I can’t wish things were easier.”

“Everyone wishes things were easier, Crowley,” Ezra told her, smiling encouragingly. “Now, I think I’m going to go and check on dinner before it gets burned to a crisp, and you should talk to Warlock. And I’ll ask again, are you staying for dinner?” 

“I don’t have anything made,” Crowley admitted. 

“Then that’s settled.” 

Ezra kissed her cheek and went to step out of the room. 

“Do you think Warlock  _ wants _ to come home?” Crowley asked, biting her lip.

Ezra turned back to her, signed. “Of course he does, Crowley. You’re his  _ mother _ , and this isn’t his home. Just a warm, safe place for him to stay while you got all settled and recovered. He doesn’t want to stay here, trust me.”

Crowley’s reply was a nervous smile, then she slid off the couch in such a way that Ezra was yet again left wondering if she had any bones at all, headed for Adam’s room to find Warlock. 

“Make sure you knock before you open the door!” Ezra called. It was a courtesy he had always given Adam, after all, and not one he wanted anyone overstepping. Adam had a right to privacy. 

“Of course, angel.” 

Satisfied, Ezra returned to the kitchen to see how his cooking was going. 

Whatever had burned, at the very least it would be salvageable. He would have to be satisfied with that. He pulled it out of the stove to let it cool.

Crowley knocked on Adam's door. The boy pulled it open, smiled at her. "Warlock! Crowley's here!" 

Warlock left the room seconds after, pulled his arms around Crowley. "Hey, An-" he stopped, as though suspecting Anthony wasn't right for the moment. 

Kids did learn after nine years. "Just Anne,” Crowley told him.

"Hey, Anne, it's good to see you," Warlock said. 

"It's good to see you too, Warlock." 

There was a moment's silence. "I think Baron misses you, too,” Crowley added, a little off-handed. “We both know she doesn’t like me, could probably use some company she actually  _ does _ like. And I’ve gotten everything sorted out, even opened the shop for a few hours this morning. If you want to come home, I’d love to have you back,” she offered. 

“Of course I want to come home, Anne. Ezra is lovely, but the bookshop is  _ not _ my home and I’ve missed you!” Warlock replied, seeming a little surprised that Crowley would make it sound like an option he wouldn’t pick. 

“I’m glad to hear it, I’ve missed you too,” Crowley admitted, smiling down at the boy. “We’re staying here for dinner still, I hope that’s alright, I didn’t get anything made.”

“That’s fine with me, Anne. I’m just excited to get home.”

The words reassured the knotted feeling that had been working in Crowley’s stomach all day. Somehow, she had been concerned that Warlock  _ wouldn’t  _ want to come back home. Would have realized that Crowley wasn’t actually a  _ good _ parent, would have realized that he was really better off away from her. 

And that would not have just  _ hurt. _ That would have been incredibly dangerous for the both of them, and Ezra and Adam. Warlock  _ had _ to stay in Crowley’s care, that was one of the rules that had been agreed upon. Just him having stayed at the bookshop for a couple of days without Crowley  _ calling _ anyone to fill them in was dangerous, but they wouldn’t strike until they checked back and found Warlock still gone, and Crowley had kept her eyes peeled for someone who might be suspicious.

It would be much safer to just have Warlock back at home. And thank  _ God _ Warlock had agreed to it, and things could go back to normal without much fuss. 

“Are you and Ezra going to be proper friends again?” Warlock asked, looking up at Crowley and frowning. 

“We’re working on that, Warlock. I did something… monumentally stupid, but we are working on it,” she promised, “but that’s all I’m telling you about that. You and Adam already have your noses too far into our business as is.”

She grinned to let Warlock know she was kidding. “Did you have a good day at school?”

"I did, Anne. Was the shop busy?" 

Crowley shook her head. "Thankfully, it wasn't. I think I'm in need of a bit of a slow startup." 

She paused, suddenly crouched to Warlock's height, pulled off her glasses. "You know how sorry I am, don't you, Warlock?" She asked quietly, golden eyes wavering as she stared at the boy. 

Warlock pulled her into another hug. "Of course I do, Anne. I've known all along. You left me here to make sure I was  _ safe _ . I never once had reason to think you weren't sorry." 

Crowley held him tightly, felt tears run down her cheeks. "I have to be sure. I've never felt  _ worse  _ about something than I did realizing our home wasn't safe for you and it was  _ my _ fault." 

That was a blatant lie, there was plenty she had done to make her feel worse, but this  _ was _ bad. Words didn't describe how ashamed of herself she felt. 

"Dinner's ready," Ezra declared, stepping into the hall where he could get everyone's attention. He smiled at Warlock. "Are you excited to be going home?" 

Warlock grinned. "Of course I am!" 

He paused. "It's been great here too, of course-"

Ezra laughed. "Oh, don't worry about offending me, Warlock. I'm very happy for the both of you," he promised, "now come get some dinner. Adam, did you hear me? Dinner is ready!"

Adam poked his head out the door, contemplated the scene in the hall and walked past them all to go wash his hands, clearly sensing this had nothing to do with him. 

Crowley supposed the boy had good intuition. She gave Warlock one more squeeze and stood back up, fit her glasses back on. "Well, let's go get some dinner and we can head on back home. I'm sure you'll be happy to get home." 

Warlock nodded and walked into the kitchen. 

Ezra had made chicken parmesan, which was delicious, at least the small amount that Crowley did eat and the slightly larger amount that Warlock convinced her to eat. 

Without much more fuss Warlock's suitcase was packed back up, mostly full of dirty laundry for Crowley to run when they got home, and headed back across the road.

Once home, Crowley took all the laundry and threw it into the machine, not bothering to sort colours and knowing she would pay the price for that if Warlock's school uniform came out dyed pink, but not having the energy to care that much about it. 

"Film?" Crowley offered, looking back at where Warlock stood outside the door to the laundry room. He held his cat in his arms, who was purring contentedly for the first time in days. "I figure we could both benefit from a quiet first evening back to normal." 

Warlock nodded. "Can we agree on a film, Anne?" He asked. 

"Choose anything you like, Warlock, I just want to spend some quiet time with you. I'm going to be honest, I'm still rather tired and don't have the energy for a board game or some other engaging activity, but would like to spend the evening with you," Anne admitted, walking back to the doorway and kissing Warlock on the forehead. "Now go on, choose a film, anything you like." 


	26. Chapter 26

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry for disappearing I cannot promise I won't do it again.

"Ezra," Crowley purred, leaning his head against the bookkeep's shoulder, "where are we going, dear? You're driving my car, the least you could do is tell me  _ where." _

"I told you, this weekend is a surprise, Crowley," Ezra replied, "and it's not like I'm doing anything to your car, I've grown quite proficient with a manual vehicle. Now would you  _ please  _ stop leaning on my shoulder, love? It's making it rather hard to drive. At least lean a little less heavily."

Crowley pecked Ezra's cheek before sitting up properly, although he kept a hand against Ezra's where it rested on the gear shift. 

"And Adam was alright with staying with Madame Tracy for the weekend?" 

"You know those two, they'll be fine."

"I'm sure they will be, you're right. Although I had to promise Warlock I would take him on a trip this summer, just not this one," Crowley mused, "we don't even normally travel for the summer. Sometimes during Christmas, but not the summer. No clue why he was so insistent." 

They both knew the answer. 

Life at the Crowley home was far better than it had been during Crowley and Ezra's break. Crowley was cooking again, rarely having more than a glass of wine with dinner, and all-around doing an excellent job of making up for the few weeks he had spent so distant, but both Warlock and Crowley still remembered the bad times too vividly. 

They needed something big and memorable and unequivocally  _ happy  _ to set their minds at ease. 

Well, setting Warlock's mind at ease. Ezra knew that Crowley wouldn't relax until the job he had yet to be called for was over.

Ezra just had to work on doing his best to keep Crowley  _ calm  _ until that phone call came. 

Once it was over everything could move on. There would be no need for any of their caution and stresses, Crowley would finally be able to relax and would finally feel like an honest father. 

Only then, and not a second before. 

He wished he could do something about that, but knew that he couldn't. 

He had to accept that. 

He had the next- best thing to that hidden away in his bag. 

See, there was a  _ reason  _ they were going out to a seaside cottage in South Downs for the long weekend, and it wasn't just the beautiful weather. 

They may not have known each other for longer than a year, may not have had the smoothest sailing of relationships but Ezra had made up his mind about something. 

The man seated in the passenger's seat of his own vehicle with a hand against Ezra's on the gearshift was the man that Ezra didn't want to spend another day in life without. 

He had a ring in his bag, tucked away in the back of the car. He hadn't yet decided when he would ask, he sort of figured he would know when the time was right, but he did know one thing. 

He wasn't leaving South Downs without having asked. There was no one else in the world Ezra wanted at his side as much as he wanted Crowley, no matter how stupid that might have been, no matter the fact that there were secrets Crowley would keep for the rest of their lives. 

He would accept that. He would live with that because he loved Crowley  _ more  _ than those answers really mattered to him.

Ezra pulled the car up in front of a little cottage at the seaside. Crowley peered out the window, looking at it with unmasked curiosity. 

"It's ours for the weekend," Ezra explained, putting the car into park. 

"Any reason for the special rental?" Crowley asked, clambering out of the Bentley and grabbing his suitcase out of the boot. 

"Well, this is the very same weekend I moved to Soho, dear. We can't go on a trip for the weekend we  _ met  _ since the boys are in school, so this is as close as I could get."

Truth be told, it hadn't been planned that way. It was the cheapest weekend to rent the cottage, and while Ezra wanted to do something  _ big,  _ he wanted to go on this trip, money was growing tighter by the month. 

He was starting to worry about what would happen if the bookshop failed. 

But now wasn't the time to worry about that. 

"You're such a romantic, Ezra," Crowley laughed, walking around the car to where Ezra had stepped out and kissing him on the cheek. "Trust you to remember the exact date we first laid eyes on each other," he chuckled. 

"Of course I do! I remember thinking that there was a friend across the street for Adam when I spotted Warlock, and then  _ you  _ walked out!" 

"I regrettably thought you looked quite silly, if I recall correctly. Here comes the new shop owner walking right out of the nineteenth century," Crowley admitted, and they both had a good laugh about that. 

"Who would have known how fond I am of that silly coat  _ now."  _

Crowley smiled, a little crookedly, the smile Ezra had learned to be the most genuine since he had met Crowley. The one he had the least control over out of all of them, Ezra's favourite. He liked when Crowley couldn't help himself but burst into a fit of laughter, crooked, imperfect grin cracking to life on his face. 

"Well, come on, let's have a look inside and head to the beach!" Crowley declared, walked up to the door. "You  _ do  _ intend to swim here, don't you, angel?" 

"I wouldn't have chosen a seaside cottage if I didn't, dear," Ezra replied, laughing a little to himself.

948

Crowley waited for Ezra to unlock the door, stepped into the cottage.

Ezra let him run off, finding it ironic that the one who hadn't seen the pictures of the cottage led their tour around the place, but Crowley stopped after he had found the master bedroom anyways. 

Then he immediately slung his jacket over the edge of the bed and unbuttoned his shirt, slid it off his shoulders. 

Ezra gazed at the snake-patterned binder Crowley wore underneath his shirt, which he was about to remove also when he looked back up. "I know we're dating, but you don't have to stare. If you wanted to see me naked before this you only had to ask. Hell, if I'd known I was putting on a show I'd have worn sexier underwear. I'm sure I have lace lying around  _ somewhere,  _ I'm sure you would get a kick out of that. Might not make it to the beach."

Ezra blinked, smirked at Crowley and walked up to press a kiss to his lips. "Well, maybe I'm just enjoying that I didn't have to ask, then, dear. And I assure you, lace isn't necessary."

Crowley snickered, opened up his suitcase and pulled out a pair of swimming bottoms and an old t-shirt. Ezra decided it was time to catch up so that Crowley wasn't left waiting after he was changed. 

It didn't take long for Ezra to don his swim trunks, he was about to put on a shirt of his own so that Crowley wasn't left out when the red-head stopped him. 

"If this was less of a public family beach, I wouldn't have the shirt either." 

"So next time I should find a more private reservation." 

Crowley smiled serenely and stepped out of the room. Ezra had no choice but to follow, smiling to himself as he walked out onto the shore. 

Crowley made it up to his knees before he stopped, looking back at Ezra. "It's cold!" He cried, as though Ezra had something to do with it. 

"The water tends to be that, yes," Ezra agreed, stepping in and walking up to Crowley. "You don't have to go in if you don't want to, dear."

"I didn't say that, just need a minute," Crowley protested, took another few steps into the water. "Sometimes I think Pretzel and I are both cold-blooded."

Ezra walked up behind Crowley, wrapped his arms around his willowy figure and nuzzled his face into Crowley's neck. "You feel plenty warm to me, love."

Crowley smiled fondly at him. "You're nice and warm," he remarked. 

"Indeed I am," Ezra agreed, and then scooped Crowley up out of the water and ran them further in, getting up to his waist before he plunged them both under the water while Crowley shrieked in protest, although he was laughing so hard he could barely manage to shriek. 

"Ezra, my  _ hair!"  _ He protested the moment he was back on the surface. "Saltwater is terrible for hair!" 

"Oh, I'm sure you'll live. Besides, we're in a seaside cottage, you didn't think you were going to get to spend the whole time with dry hair, did you?" 

Crowley stuck his tongue out at Ezra, who splashed him in return. 

Their splashing in the water eventually turned into kissing in the sand, basking in the rare English sun. 

As Crowley laid beside him, eyes closed and fingers twined tightly in his own, old black t-shirt soaked and clinging to his skin, Ezra's decision about the ring in his coat's pocket only redoubled. 

This was exactly how he wanted to spend the rest of his life. 

He would ask Crowley after dinner tonight.

  
  


Crowley had been jittery since the idea had occured to him. 

Of course, he wasn't really sure he had any right to ask. 

After the last fight and his behaviour, he  _ should  _ leave this decision entirely to Ezra. It wasn't fair to push it. 

But it didn't mean he couldn't be prepared. He carried the damned box with him everywhere, that was how prepared he was. 

Ezra didn't like to have copious amounts of money spent on him, but Crowley hadn't been able to resist the old, antique thing when he had found it. It was, simply put, too perfect, a gold band etched to resemble angel wings. It looked worn, just a little, which would suit  _ Crowley's  _ angel just fine. Better than something new and perfectly shiny would. 

He had tried to keep quiet about the whole affair, but he had cracked under pressure and shown it to Madame Tracy before they had set out on holidays. 

She'd been ecstatic and praised him for his choice. 

And now Crowley was wondering if he really did have to wait for Ezra to initiate, or if it would maybe, possibly, be alright to ask the man to marry him. 

He was debating it while they lied on the beach, the saltwater and sun doing horrendous damage to Crowley's red hair that he would remember to regret later, because at the moment his hand was tangled up in Ezra's and everything was calm and peaceful and beautiful and he didn't want to be disturbed from it. 

"Have you ever dared think about a future, Crowley?" Ezra asked suddenly. 

"How do you mean, Ezra?" 

"Have you ever considered what you want to do with the rest of your life, dear? Ever thought back on the plans you made as a child and contemplated the ones you wish would still happen?"

Crowley thought about it. "I was going to get married to a nice church boy in the biggest, puffiest white gown my mother could find me. I didn't tell her the rest, which was that I was less interested in the white gown. I wanted to go to school and be a herpetologist, or an astronomist." 

"I can't imagine you wearing white. Or a poofy gown," Ezra admitted. 

"No, when I do wear dresses those really aren't my style. I think my mother would  _ die  _ if I walked up the aisle in some of the dresses I own, but honestly? I think I'd be more likely to wear a suit, and she would hate that more." 

"Is the nice church boy still on the table?" 

"Not one from my church, they aren't supposed to speak to me," Crowley replied with a smirk, although he very much knew it  _ was.  _

Ezra went to church, after all. 

"And what about you, Ezra? What were your fantasies? Were you going to be a football star, or a doctor or something like that?" 

"Heavens, no," Ezra replied, smiling, "although there was a time, when I was at a peculiar age that I considered joining the military." 

"The  _ military?"  _ Crowley echoed, staring at him. "I think I'd surrender, if I saw you coming for me."

"It didn't last long."

"And what about you, Ezra?" Crowley asked coyly. "Ever dream about watching the love of your life walk up to you, all decked in white?"

"Yes and no. I've known I had a preference leaning towards men since I was fairly young, so there were very rarely any wedding gowns involved." 

"Guess I'll have to buy a nice suit then, if we ever do something like that." 

There was silence between the two, as they both stopped to process what Crowley had just said. 

"I didn't mean- I-"

"Crowley," Ezra said slowly, sitting up from where he laid in the sand to contemplate the redhead. "Are you saying you would like to get married someday?" 

Crowley grew even more flustered, if that was possible. "Well, I was just- y'know, we haven't dated for long but- I've hardly-"

"Because I'm going to be very annoyed if you've justed managed to weasel in a proposal before when I was planning on asking you, during dessert," Ezra said carefully, "and I do believe that's exactly what you've done." 

There was another moment of silence. They both stared at each other in shock. 

"You were going-"

"What do you think this holiday was about, darling? I've got a ring for you in my coat, but I'm afraid you've stolen my big romantic gesture away from me." 

"Mine's in the pocket of m'jeans," Crowley said slowly, "picked it up about two weeks ago. Was wonderin' whether after our fight t'was appropriate to ask," he croaked. 

Ezra burst out laughing. "Well, we've gone and made a right mess of our plans, haven't we?" He asked. 

Crowley nodded. 

"What if we… go get dried off, meet back up for dinner and try this again? We both know we're going to need a better story than 'accidentally proposed to one another on the beach' to tell Tracy and Shadwell." 

"And Adam and Warlock, the little gossips," Crowley agreed, "so I think that sounds like a wonderful idea. But before we go out separate ways and get ready," before he finished, he reached up and kissed Ezra again. 

"I love you, my soon-to-be-fiance."

"I love you too, Crowley, and I can't wait to ask you to marry me." 

They both laughed for a moment, then got to their feet and went back inside. 

It had taken Crowley two hours and every hair product he had brought, but his hair no longer felt like straw and was back to being manageable by the time they went for dinner. 

He hadn't really planned for a proposal dinner when he had packed his suitcase, but he did manage to put together something formal  _ enough  _ for the occassion, and then, eyes full of mischief and laughter, they had met back at the front door, each with a ring in their pocket, and driven to the nearest restaurant.

They were in South Downs, not London, and the restaurant they found themselves in was more of a mum and pop's diner, but it wasn't really the food that mattered about this occassion, or the local. 

They chatted idly through their meals, as though completely ignoring their plans for when they were done eating. Crowley convinced Ezra to order dessert, and made sure to keep Ezra in his seat until it arrived. 

"You can ask now," he invited, once the desserts had been served. Ezra pretended to be cross with him. 

"But it will get  _ cold,  _ Crowley!" 

"Then eat first, Ezra, we both know it's coming, there's no rush," Crowley replied, kissed his temple. 

When Aziraphale looked down at the slice of cake before him, he noticed something shiny placed beside it. "You just didn't want me to get to ask first!" He cried, as Crowley slid off his chair in his typical boneless manner and got onto one knee. 

"Nonsense, I really was concerned about your dessert getting cold, angel," he chuckled, even as he grabbed the ring off Ezra's plate and held it out. "So, what d'you say, angel? The faster you say yes the faster you get your turn, will you marry me?" 

There were two local families in the restaurant, the owners and three staff members who all clapped and cheered as Ezra beamed and said yes. 

Much to Crowley's chagrin, the antique ring who's size he had not gotten to pick didn't fit on Ezra's ring finger, and they both had a good laugh as Ezra slipped it onto his pinkie instead. 

"There. Now even when we're married, I don't have to take it off. Would you like yours now?" 

"No big reveal plan for me?" 

"It didn't strike as something you would want, and besides, we're already engaged now. I could get down on one knee if you wanted me to."

"And get dirt all over your trousers? You would do that for me?" Crowley couldn't help but ask. Ezra kissed his cheek. 

"Anything for you, Crowley. Anything in the world." 

He deftly pulled the box from his pocket, Crowley didn't even see it until he was slipping a silver serpent with green gemstone eyes onto his ring finger. All those years of magic had certainly paid off, it seemed. 

The owners approached their table with a second slice of cake that Crowley wouldn't normally eat but would for the occassion. "Congratulations, dessert is on us," they said with twin smiles. 

Crowley smiled up at them before leaning over to press a kiss to Ezra's lips. 

He'd never felt more happy in his entire life when Ezra wrapped his arms around him and pulled him closer.


	27. Chapter 27

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So uh.   
> Fuck update schedules I guess but didn't I used to post on Sundays anyways? I might have something by wednesday, we'll have to see, I'm gonna remove the regular updates tags tho

Two weeks after South Downs, Crowley was lying comfortably beside Ezra in the early morning when his phone rang. 

Not  _ his  _ phone _.  _ The phone Hastur had given him.

They both sat bolt upright when they heard the unfamiliar ring. Crowley looked uncomfortably at Ezra. "That's-"

"I know, love. You have to take it. Go on, we'll talk afterwards." 

Crowley nodded, reached for the phone with trembling hands and answered the call. "Hello?"

"Are you alone?" 

Crowley looked beside him to Ezra. "No," he said honestly, it wasn't worth the trouble of lying. 

"Go outside."

Crowley didn't argue. He pulled on a shirt and a pair of slippers, kissed Ezra's cheek and walked out of the flat. 

"Alright, I'm alone now, what's going on?" 

"The job is tonight. Get everything in order, we'll come to get you at six." 

Crowley didn't like the sound of that, but he knew better than to argue. "Of course. And then we're done?" He asked. 

"And then we're done," Bee agreed. 

Crowley nodded. "Can I go now? I need to-"

"I'll see you at six. Destroy this phone." 

The line went dead. Crowley dropped the phone on the ground, stomped on it, them picked it up and carried it inside, where he stuck it in the microwave. 

Ezra was standing in the kitchen, silently watched Crowley blow up his own microwave to destroy the phone. "What do you need, love?" He asked. 

"You need to bring Warlock to the bookshop," Crowley said slowly, closing his eyes and trying to think through what needed to be done. 

"Right now, or can we let he and Adam sleep?" Ezra asked. 

Right. Adam was here too. That made sense, since Ezra had stayed the night. 

Both Ezra and Crowley had found they slept better in each other's arms, and the boys didn't have any problems sharing a room. 

"They can sleep," Crowley allowed, "we need to talk. Somewhere they won't hear us." 

Ezra nodded. "Of course. I'll leave a note on the kitchen table for them and we'll go talk in the bookshop." 

It was a very good thing Ezra was as calm and prepared as he was. Crowley was absolutely losing it, too panicked to plan. 

Ezra wrote out a note in his lovely handwriting, and them guided Crowley across the street to the bookshop. He unlocked the door and settled them both down on the couch. 

"What do you need to tell me?"

"I need to tell you the whole truth. The rest of it. And I don't need you to forgive me for hiding it, Ezra, I just need to know that if this job goes how I think it will and I don't manage to come back for Warlock, that someone who- who  _ cares  _ about him will look after him," Crowley said after a very long pause. 

Ezra contemplated him strangely. "Why wouldn't I forgive you, darling?" He asked. 

"I don't think you ever would have guessed how terrible what happened to make me leave really was," Crowley said softly. 

Ezra was silent as he waited for Crowley to continue. 

"It's true that we were mostly into petty crime. Drugs, low-level theft, occasional turf wars. Was all. I was the driver, really. Got us to our deals, was the getaway car for other things. Was an easy job that could earn my keep and a little cash," Crowley explained. 

Ezra nodded. 

"There was just one time that we  _ weren't,"  _ Crowley continued, "one time that we planned something big. We were having trouble on all ends, needed a big break. I didn't  _ like  _ the idea, but no one was supposed to get hurt." 

"What did you plan to do, Crowley?" 

"A group of us orchestrated a ransom plan. It was simple. Despicable, true, but simple. We were going to take the son of the American Ambassador, hold him for ransom, and return him when it was paid. It was easy. Like I said, not pretty, but easy." 

Crowley didn't take a moment to evaluate Ezra's reaction. He didn't want to know. 

"I was driving again. Bee and Dagon got back to the car, had the kid with them. He was screamin' and cryin' up a storm but we dealt with it, were just waiting for the backup to get out when we heard gunshots." 

Crowley paused, took a breath. "We figured we'd lost our backup. We were about to go when they ran up. Was Hastur and Ligur, they got in the car and told me to drive, and that's what I did. Kid was still cryin' his bloody head off, no one told us what was going on but I drove us out of there. Figured the plan must still be on and we just needed to get out of there.

"We were a good ways away when Hastur and Ligur finally told us what had happened. They said they'd had to shoot the parents, they'd been spotted. The ambassador and his wife were dead, the charges were up from kidnapping to kidnapping and murder, the American government would want everyone involved extradited to the USA to be tried there if they could manage it. Basically, we were fucked and the plan was off. And we still had the kid."

To his credit, Ezra still didn't say anything. Crowley took a deep breath. "Hastur wanted to lose the kid. Take him out, throw him out the window of the moving car and lay low. Was a horrific plan, I figured no one else would go for it but… they did. They were talking about whether to shoot or strangle him when I spoke up." 

Ezra gasped when he said that, but Crowley couldn't stop now or he wouldn't continue. "Told them they couldn't do that. Kid was only two, he was innocent and hadn't done anythin' wrong, so they asked what the hell we were supposed to do with him if we didn't kill him." 

"The son of the American Ambassador is Warlock, isn't he?" Ezra asked, very, very quietly. 

Crowley nodded. "Said I wanted out and that I'd take him. They didn't like it but they let it slide since I was the only one who would still be in possession of evidence, and they could pin everything on me if I flipped." 

"So you left and opened a flower shop in Soho." 

Crowley nodded again. "I couldn't tell  _ anyone,  _ Ezra, not a soul. It's why Warlock is in danger if I fuck this up, he's the last remaining witness to the crime. They'll be glad to be rid of him, I've been trying to protect him."

"One good deed doesn't cancel out a bad," Ezra said slowly. 

"I know, Ezra. I truly don't think there's anything I  _ can  _ do to cancel out the bad, I've never been trying. I've just been trying to do what's right  _ now." _

"And why did you have to involve me in it?" Ezra demanded, suddenly seeming angry. "Where was my choice? You dragged me into this!" 

"You knew I had done bad things-"

"How could I ever have guessed the magnitude of those things, Crowley?" Ezra asked, tears burning his eyes. "Everything you've told me, everything you've told Warlock, it's all been a lie!" 

"No, not everything," Crowley said desperately. "Only what had to be. I really do love him and I really do love-"

"Don't. Not right now. I can't hear you say it right now, Crowley, I can't forgive this right now and I expect you understand why." 

Crowley nodded. "All I need to hear, and them I'll go and you only have to see me once again after that if that's what you want, is that Warlock will be safe and cared for with you if something happens to me. Between Warlock and you you're my entire world and damn everything else as long as you both are okay. I don't need to be forgiven, I've known I'm unforgivable for a long time. I just need to know Warlock will be safe." 

Ezra took a moment, and then nodded. "He will be. But I think you should have this back," he said softly, holding his hand out.

There was a glint of gold missing from his pinkie finger. 

"Keep it," Crowley said desperately, wrapping both hands around Ezra's and trying not to cry. "Pawn it, sell it, give it away just  _ don't _ give it back to me. Please. I'll never need it again, not unless it's with you."

Ezra contemplated him, his tear-filled eyes, the way his hands shook around Ezra's. 

He was wearing the silver snake ring, Ezra's other hand grazed over it. "Very well. I'll keep it, at least until you come back for Warlock." 

Crowley nodded, tears slipping down his cheeks. "There's a safe behind the sketch of the Mona Lisa. Passcode is 1862. There's more than enough in there to take care of you and Adam and Warlock. The flat's yours, sell it, rent it, whatever you want."

"Crowley stop talking like you aren't coming back." 

"I just want you to know if I don't," Crowley said, very softly, "because there's a good chance I won't. Just… keep Warlock and Adam safe."

"I will, Crowley. You have my word."

Crowley stood up to leave, to wake the boys and send them over to Ezra's, Ezra caught him by the hand.

"Come back to me, Crowley," he said softly, "I don't know if I'm ready for this to be over like this, so come back to me. Don't hide, and don't get killed."

Crowley nodded, and to his surprise Ezra tugged him closer, pulled him into a hug. 

"This is  _ not _ over. We've made it through everything else, give us a chance to make it through this." 

"Then why did you try to-"

"Because I don't know how to feel right now. But come back anyways. I don't want to have to tell Warlock what you just told me, and someone will have to eventually."

Crowley nodded a final time and walked back across the street. 

"Ezra? Anthony's acting weird, he woke us up and made a big thing out of saying goodbye and then sent us over here, is everything alright?" Warlock asked, stepping into the bookshop with a scared look on his face. 

He had Baron in his arms, held closely against his chest. The cat yowled at Ezra when he got closer. 

Ezra considered lying for a few moments, and then he shook his head. "Your father is in trouble, Warlock, and he wants to keep you safe. If all goes well, he'll be back to get you in a few days and can explain then."

"If all goes well?" Warlock echoed, "what do you mean, if all goes well?" 

"He's in a lot of trouble," Ezra said uncomfortably, "he might not be back for a long while. Or… or at all. He wants me to look after you until he can come get you, if ever, he wants you to be  _ safe.  _ I promise I'll do a better job explaining if he's not back in a few days. It may be nothing. He could be back tonight, dear."

The look on Warlock's face said he didn't believe Ezra. Adam walked in a few seconds later, cutting off their conversation. "Is there any breakfast to be had, Ezra?" He asked, yawning. 

"I haven't made any just yet. Why don't you go get Warlock set up in your room while I make something?"

Adam nodded, led Warlock down the hall to his bedroom. Warlock didn't set Baron on the ground, but Ezra heard hissing and spitting the moment she laid eyes on Dog, and a few moments later Dog came running into the kitchen, yelping. 

"Baron! Don't scratch Dog!" Warlock scolded, and then the commotion died down. 

Ezra reached down and patted Dog on the head. He didn't have any scratches, he'd clearly just been smacked by the moody calico.

He pulled out bacon and eggs and found that he nearly burned himself, still distracted by everything Crowley had told him. 

He kept seeing the gold glint on his finger and feeling the urge to rip it off, to throw it somewhere and never look at it again because Crowley had  _ lied  _ to him and it wasn't forgivable, Ezra had been wrong there was  _ nothing  _ forgivable about Crowley, but he couldn't bring himself to do it. 

Deep down, he loved Crowley more than anything. Still, after the confession. He still felt honoured to have that ring. He still wanted to be sitting planning a wedding with Crowley and listening to Adam and Warlock bicker about who was getting to throw flower petals and who would carry the rings. 

He  _ wanted  _ the domestic life he and Crowley had been starting to plan. More than anything else in the world. He wasn't ready to throw it away. 

He set everything on the stove, walked over to Adam's room and knocked on the door. "Warlock? Could I speak to you for a moment?" He called, and Warlock stepped out the door. 

"Come with me, dear, I didn't do a good job explaining what's happening. Let's go and have a sit down and I'll try to answer your questions." 

Warlock took a seat across from him at the kitchen table, chewing nervously on his fingernails. 

"Ezra, what kind of trouble is Anthony in?" Warlock asked quietly, eyes wide. "He never said anything about any trouble." 

Ezra sighed, reached a hand across the table and placed it on top of Warlock's. "A lot," he admitted, with a heavy sigh. "He's involved with the wrong crowd, trying to get out. This is the last thing he has to do with them, and he wanted me to look after you while he did it. He wanted  _ you  _ to be safe."

"He's going to be okay, right?" 

Ezra was more reluctant to answer that question. "I'm not sure, Warlock. He's not either. If all goes well he'll be in contact in no more than a few days, if it doesn't… he's asked me to continue to look after you. I imagine that he's prepared a will with those instructions, too." 

Another will leaving a child in Ezra's hands. "I'm afraid I have to tell you that he seemed to prepare equally for the possibility that he doesn't come back than that of which he does." 

"Why?" Warlock demanded. 

"He's doing something dangerous, dear boy. He could get into trouble or get killed, and he didn't want you to be left unprovided for if he did. But I know he's going to do everything in his power to come home."

It was hard to look at Warlock the same way. The poor boy had been lied to all his life, was fretting over the man who had helped steal him away from his parents but Ezra couldn't make himself bring that up and make everything worse. Warlock was going through enough right now, he didn't need to know his father was a crook and a liar as well. 

Not only that, but an accomplice to murder. 

It bothered Ezra more than he wanted to let it, he realized as he walked over to flip the eggs and push the frying bacon around. Warlock didn't seem to have much to say, Ezra's revelations had shocked him to the core. 

"Do you think he'll come back home, Ezra?"

"I think we have to believe that until we can't any longer. He loves you very much and he's going to do everything in his power to come back. He wouldn't have even gone if he could have avoided it, this is something he's being forced into."

Ezra's words didn't seem to reassure Warlock, and he couldn't fault the boy for that fact. 

They didn't reassure Ezra, either. 


	28. Chapter 28

Crowley was waiting by the door when Beelzebub and Dagon pulled up in front of his flat. 

"Where's the boy?" Bee demanded when he pulled the door open. 

"Across the street with the bookstore owner. No one knows about this, he thinks I'm going out for drinks with old friends," Crowley replied. 

"Where's your phone?" Dagon asked. 

"Sitting on the kitchen table," Crowley answered, and Dagon pulled out her phone and called his, was satisfied when she heard it ring from in the kitchen. 

"What did you do with the burner we have you?" 

"I stuck it in the microwave, Bee. This is not my first job."

"You've been out of the game for ten years, Crowley." 

"That doesn't mean I've forgotten how jobs work." 

Crowley grabbed his go-bag off the floor and slung it over his shoulder. 

It had a black hat to gather his red hair inside so no one could use it to identify him, a spare pair of sunglasses, a fake ID and some money tucked inside. The group used masks, as well, but Beelzebub would supply those. "Let's get moving. You going to tell me where we're headed yet, or am I not driving us there? I never was much good at the indoor part." 

Beelzebub sighed and gave him the address of a bank. Crowley pulled the hat out of his bag and tucked up his long red locks, and walked out to the car, snagging the keys from Dagon as he walked by. 

He twirled them in his fingers, slipped into the driver's seat. 

"What's the plan?" 

"You're the diversion," Hastur said from behind him, scaring the shit out of him. "You won't need a disguise, you're going in as a civilian." 

Crowley nodded. "And what, asking to open a savings account?"

"I don't care what you do as long as you distract the teller, and eventually get the bank manager involved. Get him in the back in a meeting with you, and you keep him there. We'll be watching through the security." 

"Eyes and ears?" 

"Just eyes," Ligur admitted. 

Crowley smiled privately to himself. Dagon and Bee got in the car, and Crowley sped off to the bank. 

"What's that on your finger, Crowley?" Hastur asked, and he somehow managed to make Crowley's own name sound degrading. 

Crowley glanced at the silver serpent snaked around his ring finger, its bright ruby eyes glittering, but didn't answer. 

Beelzebub, seated in the passenger's seat, ripped his hand off the wheel. "Is this and  _ engagement  _ ring?" They asked, again, somehow making what should have been exciting sound flippant and scorn-worthy. 

Crowley snatched his hand back from Bee, stuck it back on the wheel. "Some of us have lives beyond robbing banks and killing diplomats." 

"Don't you get high and mighty on us now, Crowley. You're just as bad as the rest of us." 

Crowley didn't have any means of arguing with that. 

He pulled up at the bank. "Do we have a contingency if someone catches on?" He asked as he put the car in park, left the keys in the ignition. 

"I believe you've met lieutenant Archer, Crowley. He and his sister will keep anything on the police end quiet. It's foolproof. Get in, get out, go home and you can go back to playing house," Beelzebub replied. 

That threw a rock in Crowley's plans. Two dirty cops weren't something he had counted on. 

Dagon thrust a loaded pistol at him, Crowley tucked it in the waistband of his jeans where no one would find it.

He sighed, stepped out of the car and made his way inside. 

The bank had highly polished floors and elegant stone fixtures. He walked up to the nearest teller. "I need to speak with the bank manager. It's a matter of some urgency. There's an issue with some of my accounts and I need it sorted out immediately." 

"He's in a meeting, sir, can I get your information and try to help you myself?" The teller asked, eyeing him up and down. 

Crowley shook his head. "No, I really need to speak to the bank manager. Nothing else will do. I'll wait if he's in a meeting."

Now the teller looked suspicious. 

Which wasn't really something that Crowley  _ didn't  _ want. "It's very important that I speak to him as soon as possible. In the meantime, you should go on your break," he said gently, trying not to spook the young teller. "You're not going to want to be in here in the next ten minutes. Don't touch the alarm, or we'll both be shot, you hear me? Pretend I didn't say anything suspicious, go get the bank manager and go on your break. I'm here to help." 

The young teller stared at him for a few more seconds. "Go on your break, and don't call the police, there's two officers in on this. I'll tell you anything you need to know if you don't pull the alarm, there's already a plan in place and if you pull the alarm then it goes up in flames and the two of us die." 

"Are you armed?" The teller asked quietly. 

Crowley nodded, very slowly, keeping both hands on the desk. "I am, but I'm not going to go for it, I'll keep my hands where you can see them at all time. I'm not here to hurt anyone." 

Every second he wasted talking to this teller was a second for Beelzebub to get suspicious. Thankfully, the teller finally seemed to make up their mind. "I'll go get the manager. Don't go anywhere." 

Crowley nodded, left his hands on the desk where the teller could see them. 

A few moments later, the teller returned to the desk with an elegantly dressed woman with them. "What is the meaning of this?"

"The people I'm trying to help you stop are looking through your security cameras. Is there anywhere without cameras that we can talk?" Crowley asked, glancing up at the camera he spotted in the corner of the room. "I have a plan, I don't intend to let this robbery happen, if I did I wouldn't have told you I was here as part of a robbery. Trust me and take me somewhere with no cameras." 

The woman nodded. "I can turn off the ones in my office, come with me." 

She led Crowley through the back of the bank, walked him into her office, closed the door and typed on her computer for a few minutes. 

When she looked up, the little red light under the security camera in the corner shut off. "Alright, tell me what this is about before I call the police." 

"If you call the police from your office phone they'll know I warned you and they'll come in guns blazing," Crowley replied, keeping his voice low and even. "I used to ride with them, not anymore, and I've spoken with a detective about them. This is the best chance we have of taking down the organization. Sit down, I'm going to put my gun-"

"You have a gun?" 

"Yes, and I'm going to put it on the ground and kick it towards you. If you point it at me it won't be the first time, but I would really prefer you just take out the clip and empty it and then we can talk like civilized people." 

The bank manager nodded. 

Crowley pulled the gun out from the waistband of his jeans, placed it carefully on the ground and tapped it with his toes to send it spinning gently towards the woman standing near the desk. 

She picked it up, and to his relief, he really didn't feel like being shot at today, emptied the clip onto the ground. 

"Tell me what's going on."

"We don't have much time. My name is Anthony Crowley, there's a crew coming in to rob the bank, I'm meant to be keeping you distracted. They'll enter any minute now so we need to be fast. Take this phone and call the police, don't say anything until I tell you to, got it?" 

The bank manager nodded. Crowley handed her the burner he had picked up and hidden inside his binder where Beelzebub wouldn't find it. 

The woman dialled the police. 

Crowley's contact knew the number assigned to the burner, but even so, they had worked in some precautions. The second someone answered, Crowley spoke up. 

"Who is this?" 

"Detective Constable Newton Pulsifer," the voice on the other end replied. 

Crowley was silent for a moment. 

"Holy Water," Newt whispered into the phone, and Crowley relaxed. 

"It's Crowley," he hissed, "I've got the bank manager here, she'll tell you where to show. Hurry, I'm going to try to keep us safe in the back." 

The woman seemed to trust Crowley a little more now that an officer was on the phone. She told Newt the bank's information as quickly as possible, and what the security on the safe was, thus, how long she could stall. 

When Crowley heard gunshots outside in the lobby, he motioned to the manager to hang up. She did, and Crowley snatched the phone out of her hands and threw it to the ground, crushing it under his heel before picking it back up and tucking it in his pocket. 

"I assume you don't want me to touch them so get the gun and bullets off the floor. Quickly," Crowley whispered. 

The woman did as he said, just in time for Beelzebub to pound on the office door. "Open up!" They shouted. 

Crowley turned back to the manager with one last instruction. "Act surprised."

He unlocked the door and opened it. 

Beelzebub looked around the room, at the orderly desk and the woman standing behind the desk. 

They instantly pointed their gun at the woman. "Open up the safe. Crowley, get behind her, make sure she doesn't run." 

Crowley did so, leading her down the hall towards the large safe. 

He was a lot calmer now that the police were on their way. He could maintain this act for a few minutes. 

He pushed the bank manager towards the safe, she started to unlock it. 

"All went according to plan?" 

"She was distracted, wasn't she?" Crowley asked, glaring at Beelzebub. 

Bee had to give him that point. 

The woman opened the safe with shaking hands, Beelzebub thrust a duffel bag into Crowley's arms. "Fill that and go wait in the car. We'll be out shortly." 

Crowley stepped obediently into the safe. He began placing bundles of paper banknotes into the duffel bag, and Beelzebub left him to it. 

It was after he had filled it and was walking into the lobby that he finally heard the sirens. 

"Scotland Yard! Come out with your hands in the air, we have the place surrounded!" 

Beelzebub whirled on Crowley, shock in their blue eyes. "Traitor!" They screeched, and before Crowley had a chance to do anything, duck, run, even respond, they fired their gun the moment it was pointed in his direction. "Treacherous bastard!" 

The bullet caught Crowley right in the gut, and he stood and stared for a few seconds as blood gathered, soaking into his black shirt. 

He watched it start to bubble and spill to the floor. It stained the polished marble a brilliant red as it spilled between the fingers he pressed in front of the wound. 

At the sound of gunshots, the police stormed into the building. Bee fired off one more shot, this one hitting a little higher and nearly knocking Crowley off his feet, before a police officer returned fire and Beelzebub crumpled to the ground, lifeless.

It didn't matter. They had already shot him. 

Crowley stared for a few more seconds before dizziness and nausea washed over him fully and he collapsed onto the ground. Everything felt hot and cold at the same time, the world was spinning and rapidly going black.

"We need an ambulance!" A voice shouted, footsteps pounded on the ground, getting closer and closer to Crowley until they stopped just when he thought they might crush him or deafen him. A hand was pressed firmly against the first bullet wound, Crowley thrashed and tried to get away as all the pain he was in redoubled. 

"Hold still or you'll bleed out," a calm voice told him. "I'm trying to help you, I need you to let me."

Crowley nodded, did his best to stay still and swallow down the urge to throw up. 

"Just lay there, keep your eyes open. Don't close them. You're going to be fine. Why were you in the bank?" 

So he hadn't noticed the duffel bag full of stolen bills slung over Crowley's shoulder, he thought Crowley was a civilian. An ordinary patron. Crowley shook his head, tried to speak but he only managed to cough up blood. 

"Okay, okay now, easy, easy I'm sorry for asking, you just lie still. Keep yourself laying down. Help is on the way," the officer said, leaning down over Crowley. "Can you possibly tell me your name?" 

Crowley tried to speak again, was unable. He coughed up more blood and the officer stopped trying to get him to talk.

"Just lay still."

_ Now I lay me down to sleep _ . 

Crowley didn't know where the thought came from as he struggled to keep his eyes open, choking on more blood as it rose up his throat and spilled from his mouth. 

His mother had taught him that line when he was very, very young. Eyes closed, hands folded. 

_ Now I lay me down to sleep,  _

_ I pray the Lord my soul to keep. _

He couldn't understand why the prayer came to mind. 

It was a children's prayer, one he had sat on his knees each night of his childhood and prayed while his parents watched carefully over him. When he had gotten older, they had tried to have him change the prayer, but he hadn't gone for it. He stuck with the same child's prayer as always. 

_ Now I lay me down to sleep,  _

_ I pray the Lord my soul to keep. _

_ Keep me safe all through the night,  _

_ And wake me in the morning light. _

He wondered if he should have taught Warlock the prayer, despite his excommunication. To teach his son to ask a higher power to look out for him. 

The powers on earth weren't powerful enough. He should have taught Warlock to ask for more.

His eyes slipped closed. 

_ If I shall die before I wake, _

_ I pray the Lord my soul to take.  _

Everything went black and cold and quiet. 


	29. Chapter 29

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You asked, I delivered!

Ezra wasn't sure what he was meant to be doing.

At the moment, he was on the couch with an arm wrapped around each of the boys, trying not to fret too much about what Crowley was doing and trying not to think about what he had just learned, which was very difficult when he had Warlock held in his left arm. 

Neither of the boys protested. You could have cut the tension in the room with a knife. 

Everyone knew something was wrong. Dreadfully wrong. 

But no one would address it. If they addressed it, it was real. 

Instead they were all bundled on the couch, silent and exchanging glanced while a show no one was watching played on the telly. 

"Do you think Anthony will call to tell us he's okay?" Warlock asked, looking up timidly at Ezra. 

Ezra truly didn't know the answer to that. He didn't even know if Crowley was going to be alright or able to make a phone call. "I'm sure we'll be the first to know. He doesn't want to scare you, Warlock," he said gently, only a half-lie. 

Crowley didn't want to scare Warlock. That much was true. 

But Ezra didn't know how able to communicate Crowley was going to be in the near future. 

Crowley certainly hadn't seemed to think he was going to be.

But he couldn't bring himself to worry Warlock like that. He had to pretend everything was going to be fine. 

"If you're sure, Ezra," Warlock said quietly, and there came the overwhelming guilt. 

Ezra heard someone try the bookshop door, unsuccessfully. He was well locked up for the day. 

Then he heard the sound of breaking glass. "Warlock, Adam, go to Adam's room, hide in the closet and do not make a sound. If you hear anything suspicious, call the police," he hissed, and shoved both boys gently towards Adam's room. 

Neither argued. They rounded the corner and Ezra stood to greet his unwelcome guests before they could spot the children, or get further into the house. 

He recognized them both. 

"Lieutenant and Detective Archer. I'm afraid I'm most certainly closed, as the locked door should have indicated to you."

He realized that when there were two pistols pointed at his face really wasn't the time to sass his intruders after he had spoken. 

"Tell us where the boy is, and no one else gets hurt," Michael Archer hissed, glaring at him over her pistol. 

Ezra frowned. "I'm afraid I haven't a clue who you're talking about," he replied, "I'm here on my own, my nephew is playing with friends."

"Oh, don't play stupid with us, Mister Fell. We already know Crowley left Warlock with you. Tell us where he is, and we take him and leave peacefully."

Ezra wondered for a second if they were legitimately here to help, but he figured the police wouldn't have threatened him with bodily harm. 

There was something in the way they were speaking. 

Ezra hadn't trusted Gabriel Archer since he'd met the man. 

"What do you want with Crowley's son?" Ezra asked, keeping his tone as level as possible. 

"Maybe he really doesn't know, brother," Michael murmured, "Crowley might not have told him." 

"Hastur is certain he knows, Michael," Gabriel replied, "you heard what he said."

Now Hastur was a name Ezra recognized. Crowley had mentioned it a couple of times. 

Hastur was not a police officer. 

Ezra set his jaw. "I won't be telling you where the boys are," he said stubbornly.

"Shoot him, he's a waste of time," Michael said quietly. 

"He's the only one who knows where the boys are. In this neck of London we may never find them without his help, there's too many young boys running around," Gabriel replied, "we don't have to shoot him. We can  _ make  _ him cooperate."

It wasn't as though Ezra hadn't expected that. 

Well, really, he hadn't expected the police officers at his door to be a threat, but now that they were, he wasn't surprised to hear they weren't above hurting him to get their answers. 

Ezra allowed the officers to muscle him into the kitchen, push him down onto a chair. 

He was a secondary school boxing champion, but he could tell Michael and Gabriel didn't think he could put up a fight. 

He didn't look like he could, in his soft tan coat and with his rounded shape. 

Police officers could fight, but they were giving Ezra the element of surprise without even meaning to. 

"How much did the traitor tell you, anyways?" Gabriel asked irritably. 

"I know who Warlock's parents are, if that's what you're asking," Ezra said in a very calm voice. "Crowley told me about that, and I know from the way you're behaving that you're not here to reunite Warlock with his family, and thus I won't be telling you where he is. You can threaten me all you like." 

"Look at you," Gabriel scoffed, gesturing wildly at Ezra. "We probably wouldn't even have to hurt you, just deprive you of a meal or two, if this gut is anything to go off of."

Ezra forced himself to sit still as Gabriel threw a fake punch at his stomach. "It's not a crime to enjoy a good meal, Lieutenant Archer," he said, "I fit quite nicely into my favourite coat, and thus I have no complaints." 

Michael got impatient. She struck him across the face with the muzzle of her gun in one fluid motion. "Enough talk. Tell us where the boy is." 

Blood dripped down Ezra's cheek and onto his favourite coat. 

"I believe I already told you my answer to that demand, Detective Archer. I'm afraid hitting me with your pistol will be as effective as shooting me with it. I'm not going to tell you anything." 

The people, Crowley's old crowd, had wanted to kill Warlock. They had reluctantly agreed to let Crowley keep him. 

There was no doubt in Ezra's mind that Gabriel and Michael had arrived to get rid of the evidence now that they knew Crowley had betrayed them.

And there were worse things to die for than saving the life of an innocent twelve-year-old boy. 

He only prayed Adam and Warlock were smart enough to get out without being caught. 

That relied on a few things. 

Adam and Warlock knowing to get out through Adam's window, which would be fairly obvious, and Michael and Gabriel Archer having no more allies outside. 

They weren't the worst odds. 

"He's wasting our time, Gabriel. Bee already went down, the police shot them after they gunned down the traitor. We need to find the boy before anyone comes looking for him." 

"Gunned down- someone shot Crowley?" Ezra exclaimed before he could stop himself. 

Gabriel sneered at him. "Twice. He'll bleed out before he ever makes it to the hospital. Bee's an excellent shot."

Ezra's heart dropped to his stomach. He didn't doubt Gabriel for a minute. Crowley hadn't gone in expecting to be caught, Ezra hadn't even known he was working with the police. He wouldn't have been prepared to take a shot. 

He wouldn't have been able to defend himself. 

"He's useless, Gabriel," Michael said irritably, pressing her gun up against Ezra's forehead. 

He had to fight to retain his composure. He couldn't flinch or make any sudden moves. 

The cold steel of the barrel pressed hard against his skull. "We should just get rid of him." 

"Police! Come out with your hands up!" A voice shouted from the front of the store. 

Gabriel glanced at Michael. "They don't know. I'll go take care of the officers, you find out where the kid is," he directed, "and  _ don't  _ fire that gun." 

Gabriel ran to the front of the bookshop. 

Ezra saw his chance. 

When Michael moved to put her gun away, he grabbed her hand, yanked her forwards with surprising strength and cracked her head against the table. 

While she stumbled, stunned, her pulled the gun out of her hand and pointed it at her. "Down on the ground. Now." 

"Gabriel!" Michael called, struggling to her feet. 

Ezra put the gun to the side and grabbed her, instinct from when he was young taking over and he pinned her to the ground before she really fought back, she was still dazed from the hit, and used his previously noted excessive weight to hold her down. 

He was expecting Gabriel to come to Michael's rescue, figured at least now he had an advantage, but no one burst through the door into the kitchen. 

"Gabriel!" Michael cried again, reaching up with one hand and jamming a finger into the pressure point behind Ezra's ear, forcing him to let go. 

He rolled off of her and grabbed her gun off the kitchen table before she could grab it. 

"Gabriel isn't coming to save you, Detective Archer. He's in the back of my squad car. Surrender yourself now," a young man said, stepping into the kitchen. 

He had a boyish face and dark hair. 

He was covered in blood. Hands, shirt, trousers, arms, all over. He had his gun aimed at Michael, but he moved it sharply to hover between Michael and Ezra when he noticed the firearm in Ezra's hand. 

In response, Ezra put his on the ground and kicked it away, putting his hands in the air. "Ezra Fell, sir, I'm the owner of this establishment," he explained. 

"I was sent to find you," the police officer agreed, moving towards Michael, who reluctantly put her hands up and cuffing her wrists behind her back. "Was going to escort my key witness to the hospital but he insisted I come to this bookshop and make sure you were okay." 

"He's got the diplomat's son, you're arresting the wrong people!" Michael protested. 

"I know he does. I've known where the diplomat's son has been all along, Michael, it was cleared with the higher ups. Do you research next time," the officer replied. 

He turned back to Ezra. "Are you alright? We have EMTs outside, they can have a look at you," he offered, "that gash on your cheek looks bad." 

"I need to check on the boys," Ezra said, numb. 

"Right. I'll send one in to see you. I'll come back and explain once these two are on their way to the station, alright?" 

Ezra nodded. 

He walked out of the kitchen, grabbed a towel to staunch the blood pouring down his cheek as he went, and knocked softly on the door of Adam's room. "Warlock? Adam? It's Ezra, are you alright?" He asked. 

There was a moment of silence and a little bit of scuffling, then the door cracked open, slowly. "Just you, Ezra?" Adam asked suspiciously.

"Just me."

The door opened the rest of the way, Warlock put down the cricket bat he was brandishing. "Ezra, you're bleeding!" Warlock cried. 

"I am a bit, yes, but it's safe now," Ezra said, feigning calm. 

"What happened? Why did they keep talking about the boy?" Adam asked. 

Ezra bit his lip. "It's nothing. They were mistaken," he replied. 

Neither boy seemed to believe that. 

Ezra reached out both arms and gathered the boys into his embrace. 

Neither of them protested, they borrowed into his arms gratefully. "Everything's okay now." 

"Were they here because of Anthony?" Warlock asked quietly. 

Ezra lied before he even thought about it. "I don't know, Warlock," he said softly. 

A young lady and the police officer walked into the room. "My name is Anathema Device, I'm an EMT, can I have a look at your face?" She asked gently. 

"Of course, miss," Ezra agreed, gently pulling away from the boys to let the young lady have a look at the pistol scrape on his face. 

The officer walked back in as well. 

His eyes locked onto Warlock after assessing the scene for a few minutes. "Good lord, that's-" 

Ezra cleared his throat and fixed the officer with a glare. 

He stopped talking. 

"Can I get your name, officer?" Ezra asked pointedly. 

"Newt. Newton Pulsifer," he replied, "but you can call me Newt." 

Ezra was about to answer when Newt's radio buzzed. 

"Detective Pulsifer? Have you got a case without your witness?" 

Newt rolled his eyes and held down the button to answer. "We caught them red-handed in the bank, of course I have a case. Why?"

"Anthony Crowley coded in the ambulance. They haven't gotten him back yet."

Ezra's heart dropped down to his shoes. 

"Keep me updated, he's the only way I'm getting the kingpin."

"Of course." 

The conversation ended. 

Warlock spoke first. "What does 'coded' mean?" He asked, voice fearful and quick. 

The young EMT who was still working on Ezra's cheek shifted awkwardly on her feet. "It means-" 

Ezra cut her off. There was no reason for Warlock to hear it from a stranger. 

"It means his heart stopped, Warlock. They're working on getting it back up," he said softly. 

"Don't- don't people die when their hearts stop?" Warlock asked, even more scared now than before. 

This time, Ezra let Miss Anathema Device answer. She was far more qualified. 

"Not always," she said gently, turning to face Warlock. "Sometimes when they're under a lot of stress hearts can give up and it's possible to get them going again. They're going to do a blood transfusion on your-"

"Guardian," Ezra supplied. 

"Guardian and try to get it to restart. He's on his way to the hospital, he has relatively good odds of being revived," she explained. 

Warlock didn't really look reassured. "Can we go and see him, Ezra?" He asked, shifting on his feet. 

Ezra nodded immediately. 

"I'll give you a ride to the hospital," Newt said quickly. "I'll get you there, Anathema, is he good to go?" 

Anathema got onto her feet. "I think so, make sure he gets that looked at," she agreed. 

Anathema Device stepped out of the room, and Newt escorted Ezra, Adam and Warlock out to a squad car parked on the street. They all had to pack into the backseat, considering it was a service vehicle and civilians were not allowed in the front. Newt closed them into the back, climbed into the driver's seat and flicked on the lights and sirens. 

He dropped the car out of park and sped off down the street at a speed that could have rivalled Crowley when they were on the open road in the Bentley. 

The radio kept going off with updates, but there was no more talk about Crowley. 

Ezra kept a hand clasped around one of each of the boy's, even as his own shook while he clung to them. 

Newton Pulsifer didn't say a word. He kept his foot down hard on the gas pedal, his mouth set in a hard line. 

Ezra knew he had to be strong. He had to be strong, he had to stay strong for Warlock. He couldn't break down. He had to deal with this on the inside. 

He kept his eyes on the antique gold ring Crowley had placed on his pinkie, and did his best not to crack on the outside. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sooooo.... You didn't really think I was going to give you two crowley chapters in a row, did you?


	30. Chapter 30

"Ezra… bookshop… 'cross the street…" 

Crowley wasn't even fully aware that it was his own voice speaking. 

"Mister Crowley, I'm escorting you to the hospital. You're delirious." 

He knew that voice. He forced his eyes back open. "Go!" He snapped at the detective, glaring at the boyish face of Newton Pulsifer. "Help Ezra!" 

"We can handle him from here, DC Pulsifer, there's nothing you can do to help," the EMT said gently, "you can go if it's important."

Crowley tried to tell Newton to go again, but blackness was sliding back in, he was sweating even though he was freezing, and his entire body grew heavier as he passed out on the stretcher again. 

My soul to take. 

He didn't know how long he was out. It was hard to breathe, he couldn't move, everything was black and cold and uncomfortable and he couldn't do anything about it. Every time he felt as though he might wake up, the blackness slammed back into his chest full-force and the wave pulled him back under.

_ If I shall die before I wake, _

_ I pray the Lord my soul to take.  _

Someone was calling him. 

Very adamantly, although the voice was soft and gentle. He could hear the voice, washing around his ears and then fading in the ebb and flow of gentle waves lapping the shore. 

He knew the voice, he wanted to answer but he couldn't. His mouth wouldn't open, his body wouldn't respond. He fought for a moment but it only made him tired, and he allowed himself to be pulled back under. 

  
  


Ezra barely remembered getting to the hospital. Newton Pulsifer flicked on the sirens and drove as fast as traffic would allow, even faster than Crowley’s Bentley normally sped down busy London streets, but Ezra just remembered clinging to Warlock and Ezra’s hands as tightly as he could and praying for news that mercilessly didn't arrive. 

Detective Constable Newton Pulsifer had been informed when Crowley had coded in the ambulance, and seeing as how it stood to reason they would inform Newt if his witness awoke, no news certainly did not seem like good news in this case. 

Now he was seated in the waiting room, trying not to fidget. He had a boy on either side of him, he had sent them to a vending machine with a couple of pounds each and they were distractedly munching on whatever they had gotten, but the sweets weren't enough to calm them in the slightest. 

Especially not Warlock. 

Ezra could understand why. 

When they got to the hospital, they were informed that the EMTs had managed to start Crowley's heart back up again. 

However, that was where the good news ended. 

He'd been shot twice, the first to his abdomen, they were still determining that damage, but that one had an exit wound so they didn't have to find the bullet. The second had ricocheted off a rib and ruptured Crowley's spleen. 

He was in trauma surgery, both to stop the bleeding and remove his spleen. Ezra hadn't gotten another update since then, and it was driving him mad. No news, good, bad or otherwise. Ezra could stare down the hall at the door on the far end of the corridor, which he knew if he just made a break for it he would find Crowley behind it, but rationally he also knew he would contaminate the entire operating room and wasn't allowed to be in there. 

He would put Crowley at too great a risk. Rationally, he knew he couldn't do it. 

He sat and stared at the reflective glass door at the end of the hall, instead. Knowing full well his fiance was behind it, fighting for his life on an operating table. 

And he had to be so much strong than he felt, because Warlock and Adam were watching him for cues and he had to pretend he thought Crowley was  _ fine.  _ He couldn't worry the boys by breaking down. It was his responsibility to stay strong and make them feel that everything would be alright. 

Warlock and Adam were absolutely silent. Warlock looked terrified, Adam was harder to read but he was clearly upset, too. 

Crowley had been meant to be a part of Adam's family, too. Adam was losing a guardian, too. 

A few hours in, Ezra broke. He couldn't keep the boys here. He called Shadwell and Tracy to come and get them, and promised to call at the first change. 

He thought that without the children there he might break down. Sob, scream, despair. 

Instead, he continued staring at the reflective sliding door in stoic silence. 

As soon as he broke, there would be no coming back, and he was realizing now that he didn't just need to be strong for Warlock and Adam. 

He had to be strong for Crowley, too. 

He was doing alright until pandemonium broke out. 

An alarm went off from inside one of the ORs, Ezra couldn't tell which one, and since no one rushed in to join in the frenzy he didn't get it confirmed that it was Crowley's but he had a sinking feeling. 

He had no idea what was happening, he could hear terse instructions being snapped although he couldn't make them out. 

He turned to the front desk, but the administrator behind it didn't tell him anything useful. 

There was a code in one of the ORs, and the surgeon's would deal with it. 

Ezra's heart sank when he remembered Crowley had already coded in the ambulance. 

He tried to press further, to find out which patient it was but the man behind the desk refused to tell him. It was against protocol, or something like that, a doctor would inform Ezra when they had any news, good, bad or otherwise. 

Finally, two young doctors stepped out of the room at the end of the hall. Ezra rushed over to them to ask for an update, but froze when he heard them talking. 

"I've never seen a patient lose that much blood," one of them remarked, "I thought that was his blood volume for  _ sure!"  _

"I did too! And I thought for  _ sure  _ after a full minute they wouldn't get his heart going again, not with that much blood on the floor. What do you figure the odds of brain damage are?" 

"I don't think he's ever fully waking up," the first doctor decided. 

"I don't think he's ever  _ going  _ to wake up. You heard the lead surgeon, his only chance is a medically induced coma. They're closing him up now."

Ezra knew that it was Crowley in surgery, but it felt like his own heart had stopped. There was ice water in his veins, he stood frozen, staring at the automatic sliding door as he tried to process what he had just heard. The words flew around his head faster than he could gather what they meant. 

Crowley's heart had stopped again in surgery. Probably due to a bleed. He had lost a lot of blood, his heart had stopped, and Ezra didn't know if they had managed to finish the splenectomy before they'd been forced to close him up and induce a coma. 

And the young doctors didn't think he would ever wake up. 

Another doctor, this one much older, walked out of the operating room. "Mister Fell? I'm Doctor Matthews, I'm led to understand you're my patient's contact. Are you his next of kin?" 

Ezra didn't know the answer. "I'm his fiance," he replied, twisting the golden ring on his pinkie. "Is he alright?" 

The doctor hesitated for a moment. "We managed to complete our surgery, but he lost a lot of blood and his heart did stop, although we managed to restart it. We've placed him in a medically induced coma. Given that we don't have next of kin here, we'll consult the hospital board with our next steps, but we will keep you informed," he replied, "do you know who his next of kin is so we can contact them?" 

Ezra shook his head. "He got thrown out of the house at eighteen," he said, biting his lip, "I don't think he's spoken to his parents since then. They send gifts to his son at Christmas, but that's it."

The doctor nodded. "We'll see if we can track them down." 

"I don't think he would want them make his decisions for him. Can't- can't you ask me? We're meant to be getting married."

The doctor gave Ezra a sympathetic look. "I'm afraid not. Next of kin has to either be filled in on a legal document, or be the closest relative. You aren't married yet, so you can't be Mister Crowley's next of kin. But until we locate his parents we  _ will  _ keep you appraised of the decisions being made."

"Can I- can I see him?" Ezra asked, looking up pleadingly at the doctor. 

"He's at serious risk of infection, I'm afraid, and the spleen is a large part of the immune system. We've immunized him for the most common infections, but we're keeping him in isolation for the first twelve hours, we'll re-evaluate after that. I can't let you into his room, but you can stand outside the isolation area."

"Please," Ezra replied, a clear enough answer for a doctor that had been dealing with concerned loved ones for years. 

"They're just taking him from the operating room. Give us half an hour to get him settled, and I'll come get you," Doctor Matthews replied. 

Ezra nodded, numb. 

He should call Tracy and Shadwell. The boys would want to know but Ezra couldn't make himself call with bad news. He didn't want to pick up the phone until he could assure them that Crowley was on the mend. 

He didn't want to have to tell them his heart had stopped again and he was even less responsive now than he had been at first. He didn't want to have to admit that Crowley might still be dying, even after the serious surgery he'd been through. 

Instead, he sat back down on the chair he'd been sitting in for the better part of the evening, and watched as the operating room emptied. Doctors and nurses and anesthesiologists flooded out the door. 

No one pushed a gurney passed Ezra. He figured there was another exit they would use to get Crowley out of the room.

He sat and stared, and prayed harder than he believed he had ever prayed in his life. 

He needed a miracle more than he had ever needed one in his life. 

He needed Crowley to  _ live.  _

A half an hour later, Ezra was sitting outside Crowley's room, leaned up against the glass between them. 

Crowley was not well. He was pale, his skin seemed clammy. His red hair was full of blood and sat lank around his shoulders, his golden eyes were closed. 

He was still breathing on his own, but the doctors expected they may be required to intubate him if he was to remain under for much longer. 

For now, there was a plastic mask fitted over his mouth and nose, strapped around the back of his head. 

His hands were neatly arranged at his sides, a blanket pulled up and folded down around his chest. He was in a light blue hospital gown, the lightest thing Ezra had ever seen him wear. 

Ezra imagined he was supposed to look asleep. 

But Crowley didn't sleep like that. Ezra knew that as a fact. He'd slept next to his fiance often enough to know that he had a spine Ezra swore was made of rubber, and he was only comfortable sprawled out in some way that would leave anyone else waking up unable to move. Ezra had once caught him sleeping with his head hanging off the mattress, twisted up in such a knot that he had been certain Crowley would need help untangling himself, just for the redhead to walk down his stairs with nothing but a serious case of behead to show for it while Ezra was making coffee. 

He would confess to having entertained a few less-than-chaste thoughts about how bendy Crowley was, but only if it were Crowley who asked him. 

It wasn't right to see him lying so still and stiff, but he didn't move an inch the entire time Ezra watched. 

The bookkeep finally cracked and called Tracy and Shadwell in the morning, told them about the surgery and coma but asked them to try and keep Adam and Warlock at home. 

There was two reasons for that. 

One, they didn't need to see Crowley like this. Things were meant to improve with the coma, and Ezra hoped the boys could wait until Crowley was coming out of it to visit. 

Two, because DC Pulsifer was getting impatient to sort out the details of the kidnapping case. He feared if Warlock was to arrive at the hospital then the detective would tell him everything, and Warlock deserved to hear that from someone he knew, someone who loved him. If it couldn't be Crowley, Ezra would do it, but he wasn't prepared to share that yet. 

So Warlock and Adam were better off at home. 

After twelve hours, Ezra was permitted to enter the room after undergoing a decontamination process. He left his phone with the front desk, was cleaned off and dressed in pale yellow robes, gloved and masked and hair in a cap. 

They were still worried about an infection, but given that none had set in yet, they were willing to allow restricted entrance to the room. 

Ezra didn't feel any better once he was sitting in the room with Crowley. He could now watch his fiance's chest rise and fall with each breath he took, but it wasn't more reassuring. 

After obtaining permission, he set about combing and cleaning the blood out of Crowley's hair. It gave him something to go, sifting through the fiery red stands and working out the maroon that marred the colour. 

A few times a doctor walked in to check on Crowley, change an IV bag. Even Doctor Matthews made an appearance, saying that if everything stayed stable they could talk about weaning him off the drugs keeping him under in a day or two. 

Ezra nearly began to cry at the mere thought of being able to hear Crowley's voice again. 

When Crowley's red hair was shiny and clean, Ezra set the comb to the side and clung to his hand. His veins and tendons showed clearly under his skin, which seemed papery up close. There was an IV drip in his left hand, taped in place, another nestled in the crook of his right elbow, which was giving a blood transfusion. 

Crowley had B negative blood. He'd learned that reading the bag they were using. Ezra didn't know his blood type. 

The boys arrived around mid-afternoon, with an apology from Madame Tracy. She hadn't been able to convince them to stay away for any longer. 

Ezra didn't blame her. 

Before he could approach Adam and Warlock, DC Pulsifer caught his arm. 

"His official guardians are on their way from America. I know you don't want me to tell him, but it's time to think about doing so," he muttered. 

Ezra nodded and approached the boys with a heavy heart. 


	31. Chapter 31

Convincing Warlock they needed to talk alone was hard. 

It wasn't as though Ezra couldn't understand  _ why.  _ Crowley remained in the medically induced coma he had been put in, and Warlock was determined not to leave him. When Crowley woke up he would want to see his whole family, after all, and he couldn't do that if he and Ezra were off talking in another room. 

So Ezra delayed it until he was introduced to Delilah Dachner, the sister of the former American Diplomat. 

Then, with a heavy heart, he had explained that Warlock Dowling didn't know the truth, and was currently in Ezra's care. 

Asked permission to be the one who told Warlock, so the news that would turn his world upside down didn't come from a stranger. 

Delilah had mentioned that she didn't intend to be a stranger for long, but she had agreed to let Ezra tell Warlock before she introduced herself to the boy. 

She didn't seem angry, with Ezra, the police or even Crowley. Newton Pulsifer explained that in order to pull this off legally, Delilah Dachner had always known that Warlock was safe and sound and was being looked after by one of the police's informants. 

She had always been aware, and while she and Crowley did not maintain contact, for Crowley's own safety, they had met.

Once. 

Delilah had been the first customer in the flower shop. 

She had bought flowers for the memorial put up in London in Harriet and Thaddeus' honor, and she had both met Warlock and spoken, rather intensely, to Crowley.

She hadn't wanted to leave her nephew with one of the criminals who had helped kidnap him, one of the criminals who were ultimately responsible for her brother and sister-in-law's death, but she  _ had  _ wanted her family's killers brought to justice. 

When it was explained to her that the only way to do that was to keep the informant's ruse up, and make it look like he had never gone to the police, she had reluctantly agreed to temporarily release Warlock to his care. 

Ezra had to admit, he felt a little better, knowing that Delilah Dachner had not been left in the dark or led to believe that her nephew had perished in the attack as well. Knowing that Crowley had spoken with her and fully explained the danger of the situation.

Had put his fate completely at her mercy. 

If she had refused to allow him custody of Warlock, his ruse would have been up and the others would have killed him. 

But feeling better didn't make it any easier to pull Warlock aside and sit down to have a chat. 

Warlock was antsy. He wanted to get back to Crowley and Ezra loathed the fact that he was going to have to ruin that.

He took a deep breath, looked Warlock square in the face, enough to make the boy a little uncomfortable. 

He squirmed under Ezra's gaze. 

"You know Crowley loves you more than anything, don't you?" 

"Even more than you?"

"In a different way than how he loves me," Ezra allowed, "but you know he would never want to do anything to hurt you, don't you? He wants to keep you safe and happy."

"Ezra, you're scaring me," Warlock complained. 

Ezra took another deep breath and swallowed down his resentment that Crowley had the nerve to go into a coma and leave this explanation to Ezra, the one who'd been dragged into this just as much as everyone else. "I know I am, Warlock. This is scary stuff, and I'm so sorry, I need you to be older than you are right now, dear boy. This isn't pleasant and I'm not going to get through it all if you interrupt me, no matter how fair it is for you to do so."

Warlock nodded.

"And I just need to check one last time, because I know if Crowley could tell you this himself like he was supposed to he would make so certain that you knew this. He loves you so much, and this doesn't change that you were  _ so loved." _

"I understand, Ezra." 

"Good." 

Ezra was silent for a few minutes. "Your guardian is here. The one who was supposed to get you if something happened to your biological parents."

Warlock furrowed his brow in confusion. "Nothing happened to my biological parents. They didn't want me, that's all," he said, looking nervously at Ezra. "Right?" 

Ezra shook his head. "Not quite." 

Warlock and Ezra both sat in silence for a moment. "Your father- Crowley, I mean, not your biological father- he was involved with the wrong sorts of people when he was young. He was thrown out of his family home when he turned eighteen and he had nowhere else to turn. It wasn't right, Warlock, and I won't try to make excuses for what he did, but he didn't have anywhere else to go." 

Warlock nodded again. 

"He wasn't in a lot of trouble at first. He drove everyone around, it's how he saved up for that nice car of his, and got the money to fix it up."

Ezra didn't fully know why he was spending so long on little unimportant details. Warlock wasn't likely to care how Crowley had managed to afford the Bentley. 

Not when he found out Crowley had helped murder his parents. 

But it felt like he had to spend time on the little things, trying to paint a better picture of his fiance. 

He still loved Crowley, and he didn't think he could accept that fact if he painted Crowley as the monster it would be so easy to see him as. 

There needed to still be something loveable there. Something forgivable, something Ezra could rationalize. A scared child who had been thrown out into the world all on his own and had gone to the first people who offered him support. 

"Warlock, he wasn't trying to be a terrible person. Just to survive. Tell me you understand," Ezra said softly. 

"I understand," Warlock agreed, although he sounded even more suspicious now. 

"The last job Crowley was ever involved with was a little more serious. They kidnapped the son of the American Ambassador, planned to ransom him back. It sounds awful but no one was meant to get hurt, just a quick exchange and everyone could go on with life… only two of the people he ran with shot the ambassadors. They couldn't return the boy without fessing up to murder charges and seeing a lot of trouble from both the British and American justice systems."

Warlock was staring at him, wide-eyed. "Crowley wasn't in the ambassador's home, he didn't know what was happening. He was driving, as per usual. When everyone and the boy was back in the car, he drove off." 

Ezra peered at Warlock, trying to gauge how he was going to react. "The others wanted to kill the boy and dump the evidence. Crowley wouldn't let them. He… he wanted out after what happened. He offered to take the boy, raise him without the knowledge of who he was." 

"He truly wanted what was best for you," a woman's voice interrupted. "He went directly to the police, told them everything but explained that for his and your safety, you had to stay with him rather than going to your properly appointed guardians. The police contacted that guardian, who reluctantly agreed to meet with Anthony Crowley and decide whether or not she would permit the affair to continue."

Ezra turned around and saw Delilah Dachner standing in the doorway. "Forgive me, Mister Fell, but I presume this is the part you didn't hear from him. He never talked about going to the police with anyone, no matter how much he trusted them, from what I understand."

Ezra nodded. "Miss Dachner, perhaps you should finish telling Warlock what happened." 

Delilah didn't disagree, she stepped into the room and pulled up another chair, sitting across from Warlock. "Your properly appointed guardian flew to England to meet you and the man who was looking after you. Eventually agreed to the plan. Crowley would keep you, until such a point when the rest of the members could be taken care of and it would be safe for you to be remanded into your proper guardian's custody." 

Delilah grew incredibly softer, spoke gently. "Your father, Thaddeus Dowling, was my brother-in-law, your mother Harriett Dowling, née Dachner, was my sister. Your name is Warlock Dowling, not Warlock Crowley. My name is Delilah Dachner, and I'm here to take you home, when you're ready."

Warlock stared at her in shock. 

Then, without a word, he stood and fled from the room. Ezra was about to go after him when Delilah Dachner caught his sleeve. "The boy needs a minute," she said gently, "we've just turned his world upside down. Why don't you and I talk. I believe we have a mutual acquaintance."

Ezra thought about the paper-skinned man comatose in the isolated hospital room. "He's my fiance," he blurted out, twisting the engagement ring on his pinkie. "We were going to get married next automne, he's a florist and he loves the assortments of flowers in the fall and I wasn't picky I just wanted to be married and-" 

"He's a very lucky man to have you," Delilah said, interrupting his rambling. "I tried to make it very clear to Warlock that I harbor no resentment for your fiance, you should know the same. He did what he could do, to the best of his abilities. I don't wish him harm, I wish him happiness. He's done a splendid job raising my nephew, and he has helped bring my sister and brother-in-law's killer to justice."

"I can't imagine being so forgiving," Ezra admitted, looking down at the floor. "I'm sure if I said so in a confessional I would be told that forgiveness is key, but I can't imagine forgiving a party to the murder of one of my siblings."

"We don't confess in front of others. What you choose to do is between yourself and God, not yourself and the priest. No one told me to forgive him, I decided to. We each do what we believe we must to atone, I understand that your Crowley is not a faithful man, but he has done what he found necessary to forgive himself, and I have found what he did enough for me to forgive him. Forgiving is different from forgetting. None are without sin, I worry more about being forgiven for my own wrongs.”

Ezra nodded. “You’ll be taking Warlock back to America now, I imagine. Introducing him to his family.” 

Delilah smiled. “I hope to do that, yes. He’s long been deprived of seeing his family, I know my parents will be thrilled to meet their grandson. I’m glad this has been resolved now. Ten years is a long time not to see your nephew. When I last saw him in Crowley's flower shop, he could barely speak a couple of words. Now he's in school, writing essays and book reports I'm sure." 

"I'm relieved to hear that you knew. I can't imagine how this would have been if you hadn't known where Warlock was all along."

"He's done horrible things, but if you didn't think that your fiance would have made sure the proper people were informed, then I really don't think you're giving him enough credit," Delilah replied, smiling softly, "you care very much for the boys." 

Ezra nodded. "Adam is my nephew, his parents died a little over a year ago. And Warlock-"

Whatever he was about to say wasn't true. Warlock wasn't Crowley's son, he wasn't a part of the family that Ezra had so fondly watched start to grow. 

He was going home with his aunt, to America. "Warlock is like a son to me, too," he said finally. 

Delilah nodded. "As it should be." 

She didn't follow up her statement, she sat in silence for a moment. "Do you think he'll forgive me for leaving him here? Or for taking him away?" 

"He's still a child, he'll accustom to whatever becomes his new normal if you give him time," Ezra replied, "but I'm not the one to ask about children's resentment. My nephew is happier now, but he is still not particularly enthused to be in my care, I don't think."

Delilah nodded again. "I'll keep an eye on the boys for you. Warlock won't want to feel watched right now, I'm sure. You should go and see your fiance. I suspect this is the only privacy you'll have any time soon." 

Ezra knew she was right. 

Crowley's parents had been found on vacation, they were flying back to London and would arrive that night. Warlock and Adam were in the hospital, and Shadwell and Tracy, too. If Ezra wanted some privacy, this was his only chance. "If you wouldn't mind," he said softly. 

"I won't mind looking after my nephew at all," Delilah promised, "nor yours. Go and see your fiance."

Crowley hadn't moved when Ezra arrived in the room, which was not surprising. He was still breathing of his own accord, a feat the doctors had admitted to finding impressive. 

The young doctors who had spent their time predicting Crowley's dire future had not been back. 

Ezra couldn't say he wasn't relieved. 

He sat in the chair pulled closest to the city, gathered Crowley's hand up in both of his own, kissed his clammy fingers. 

"Good afternoon, my love," Ezra said softly, brushing a stray lock of hair out of Crowley's face. "It's been two days now. The doctor tells me he's willing to talk weaning you off the meds when your parents get here."

Ezra was quiet for a moment. "I tried to get the hospital not to call your parents. I didn't think you would want them to see you in such a sorry state, but it seems we need a marriage certificate before I become your medical proxy. In a way I'm glad, I couldn't imagine that sort of pressure, but I know you won't want your mother and father to have that decision. I'll talk to them the moment they get here. About what you would want, or… at least what I  _ think _ you would want. I don't really know you as well as I thought I did, do I?" 

Ezra was quiet for a moment. "The doctor gave me this to hold onto while you were in surgery," he said, pulling Crowley's engagement ring out of his breast pocket. "I have a feeling you'll want it back before your parents get here. You seem the type to rub this in their faces. Should I be nervous to meet them?"

Ezra sighed. "I'm nervous for what they'll say about you. They don't know you anymore, love, and as much as that's how you've made  _ me  _ feel too I know that I know you better than them. I don't want to let them make your medical decisions. I don't know them, Crowley, only that they threw you out." 

He kissed Crowley's fingers again, slid the ring back onto his left hand. "And I know you're counting on me to keep you safe, love. I'll do my very best."


	32. Chapter 32

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heads up for lots of misgendering (intentionally) and just general transphobia, but don't worry they're getting shut down soon

Two complete strangers walked into the room where Ezra sat with Crowley's hand held tightly in both of his, using a name that was foreign to Ezra's ears and talking about their daughter. 

Ezra cleared his throat, and the woman, a blond with dark brown eyes, looked at him as though he was something she had just scraped off the bottom of her shoe. "What are you doing here?" She asked in the most clipped and posh accent Ezra'd heard for a long time. "Our daughter is supposed to be in this room."

Ezra and walked up to the couple. "You may have the wrong room, then. Are you looking for Anthony Crowley? He's my fiancé."

" _ Crowley!  _ That was the ridiculous name she was insisting on using!" The woman declared, "that's not the name we gave her!" 

Ezra grew defensive, quick, when he realized there was no error. 

This woman knew who she was looking for, despite using the wrong name and pronouns Crowley rarely used. 

" _ He _ doesn't use that name, Missus Dueck, I've never heard it before, and I was perfectly happy that way. We should talk. You  _ don't  _ know him anymore, you  _ threw him out  _ and you have no right to come in now and make all of his medical decisions for him!" Ezra snapped. 

The man frowned. "She's our daughter," he said, as though that settled the matter. 

"He's an adult, and he's  _ not  _ your daughter. Not unless he says he is. You can stop misgendering him, stop deadnaming him and  _ maybe  _ I won't force the hospital security to escort all three of us outside," Ezra replied, not sure where the sudden rage came from but he couldn't stand them disrespecting Crowley in this moment. Not when Crowley couldn't do anything to defend himself, not when Crowley was completely at their mercy. They were responsible for every choice there was to make concerning Crowley's wellbeing, and it wasn't  _ fair  _ they didn't even know him anymore. 

"And who are you supposed to be?" The man asked. 

He was tall and broad and had greying ginger hair and lines across his forehead. His eyes were a piercing green. 

"I'm Ezra Fell, Crowley's fiance, as I already mentioned. And I know him a hell of a lot better than you do!" Ezra snapped. 

"At least she got herself engaged to a man after all, that was really the best we could hope for."

Ezra felt anger swell in his chest as  _ he  _ was dragged into Crowley's hyper-religious parents' strategy of degrading and disrespecting Crowley's identity. Of somehow being a nail in their heteronormative coffin they had tried to force Crowley into. 

"Crowley doesn't typically identify as a woman," he said darkly, "you should stop referring to him as one." 

Both of Crowley's parents looked at him funny. His father opened his mouth, but Ezra cut him off. 

"If whatever you're about to say is just going to be a nasty, transphobic statement about my fiance, then don't say anything.” 

“We’re  _ Crowley’s  _ parents,” he said, tone obviously inflected and strange while he said Crowley’s name, “you’re not even married yet. What right do you have to tell us what to do?”

“I actually  _ know  _ him! I actually love and respect who he  _ is, _ not who you think he is!  _ I _ didn’t even want you here, I just couldn’t be his medical proxy without him signing something, and he came out of surgery unconscious! I know for a fact that he wouldn’t want you here, there’s a reason you’ve never met your grandson or been invited for Christmas dinner!” Ezra cried, trying to stand himself in between Crowley and the strangers in the room. Crowley wouldn’t want to be anywhere near these people, not the people who had thrown him out on his own and  _ made _ his life turn out like this. Not the people responsible for the fact that Crowley’d had nowhere to turn but to the people who had now nearly killed him. 

Ezra reached down and placed a hand against Crowley’s, was surprised when it twitched. “‘Zra?” a quiet voice, so soft Ezra barely heard it, called his name from on the bed. 

Instantly, Ezra stopped arguing with Crowley’s parents, ignoring the next thing they said and kneeling down beside the bed, eye-level with Crowley, who was gazing at him with hazy golden eyes. 

“Yes love, I’m right here,” he said softly, holding Crowley’s hand tightly in his own and pressing a kiss to his fingers. “I haven’t gone anywhere, you’re safe.”

Crowley looked around himself desperately, eyes wide. He seemed confused, a little scared. Ezra tried to figure out what he would be scared about, and not bring attention to the two other people in the room. 

“You’re in the hospital, my dear boy, you were shot. They had to perform an emergency surgery, to remove your spleen, but you’re recovering well. They induced a coma so you’d be able to heal with minimal other stresses, you’re just waking up now,” he said softly, “I should call a doctor…” 

But he didn’t move. The way silence had fallen from Crowley’s parents and they were now crowding into Ezra’s back, the second he moved he would be squeezed out and not allowed entrance anymore, and Ezra couldn’t make himself leave Crowley here with strangers. Not when he seemed so lost and confused. 

Instead, he turned to the red-haired man behind him. “Go find a doctor! They should know he’s awake!” He ordered, too much authority he didn’t have in his voice for the man not to listen. 

He turned and left, left his wife with Ezra and Crowley. 

Crowley’s mother tried to speak, still using a name foreign to Ezra’s ears that he refused to acknowledge, would not recognize as Crowley. Ezra interrupted her. 

“How are you feeling?” 

Crowley didn’t manage to answer. He seemed very, very out of it, as though he didn’t know what was happening. 

“Crowley, my dear, is there something you need?” Ezra asked, still determinedly pushing his mother out. He wasn’t going to let her interfere, she had no right to. 

Crowley’s father returned with a doctor and a security guard. “I want this man removed,” he said, pointing to Ezra. “He’s disrupting our daughter’s recovery and harassing my wife and I. They aren’t married, and I’ve seen no legal proof of an engagement, that gives my wife and I the final say in the matter.” 

“Crowley is not your daughter! You kicked him out when he was eighteen and you’re only here now because you can  _ smell _ another chance to control him like you tried when he was a kid!” Ezra cried, “you can’t have me removed, I’ve as much right to be here then you do! More, even!” 

The security guard shook his head at that. “They’re the next of kin, Mister Fell. They do have the right to ask for you to be removed, and we have to obey. You’ll have to come with me.” 

Ezra stared at the man in shock. “He’s my fiancé, they threw him out!”

“And until he signs a paper saying otherwise, they’re the next of kin, and they do get the final say.” 

“Ezra?” Crowley said quietly, and Ezra looked back to him immediately. “What… t’s goin’ on?” He asked, furrowing his brow as he tried to make sense of the situation. 

“I’m not your medical proxy, love. They called your parents here, and they’re trying to have me removed,” he replied, and Crowley immediately shook his head. 

“No.” 

But it wasn’t that simple. Crowley wasn’t coherent, and his parents still had authority until he was. The guard walked up to Ezra, laid a hand against his shoulder. “Please don’t make this difficult, Mister Fell. I don’t want to be forced to eject you from the hospital entirely, just come with me. A doctor will keep your appraised of Mister Crowley’s condition.” 

Ezra didn’t have another choice. Crowley tried to keep ahold of his hand but he was weak from surgery and bloodloss and being in a coma for three days, he tried to protest but he couldn’t even full comprehend what was happening, nevermind use his powers to stop it. 

Ezra kissed his fingers once more and let the guard escort him out without a fight. It tore him up inside to leave now that Crowley had finally awoken, but he had to. 

The guard brought him back to the waiting room, had him sit down, and fetched him a cup of coffee. “I’m sorry, Mister Fell. When your fiance is coherent again he’ll be able to overrule what the next of kin say, but for now, we need you to listen to what they say.”

"I promised I would be there for him when he woke up," he said softly, sniffled. "That I would never leave his side. You’re making me break that promise.  _ They’re _ making me break that promise.” 

The guard gave him a sympathetic look, but it was clear that neither of them could do anything about this, not while Crowley was barely conscious. 

They both just had to live with this. Ezra truly did believe that the security guard felt bad about it, but there was nothing to be done. 

Crowley stared up irritably at the blurry shapes above him. 

He didn’t really know why he was irritated, nothing really made sense to him at the moment, but he was irritable, and he knew that. Whoever it was that was looking down at him, they weren’t Ezra, Ezra had left, and he didn’t want them to be here. They were not supposed to be here. 

His sight finally focused enough to recognize the woman who’s blond hair was falling into his face and irritating his skin. 

Kezia Duek. 

Otherwise known as the woman who had given birth to Crowley, although he didn’t really think of her as a mother. 

She had, after all, refused to even help him pack his bags after she and Tobias Dueck decided that Crowley needed to move out the second he turned eighteen. 

That wasn’t particularly motherly. 

But he couldn’t get his voice to work well enough to tell her to leave, so he had to listen to her talk on and on about her daughter, calling him a name he had refused to use for seventeen years. 

He finally managed to say one more. “Crowley.” 

It didn’t come out as pointed as he wanted it to, but she stopped for a second. “What was that?” 

“Name’s Crowley. Legally.” 

Yet another thing that he remembered using the money he made with the gang to do. Fill in the papers to change his name officially to Anthony Jay Crowley. To finally leave his old name behind. 

And here was this woman, insisting on using it. Insisting on pretending it was still in some way linked to the man lying on the bed. 

But just after he had finished protesting, everything got a little hazier. Crowley’s head started to spin, and before he knew it blackness had taken over his vision again. 

When he awoke, Ezra was back in the room. 

“Crowley!” He said quietly, rushing to his side. “The hospital convinced your parents to get some lunch, they’re keeping an eye on where they are so I can have a chance to see you,” he explained, which didn’t really explain anything.

Why would Ezra not be allowed to be in the room. “Parents?” 

He vaguely did recall that Kezia and Tobias Dueck were in the hospital, now that Ezra said something, but his mind wouldn’t tell him what that had to do with what Ezra had just said. 

“They asked the hospital to keep me out of your room, dear boy. Legally, they have to listen, since your parents are next of kin and answer for you when you’re not awake.” 

That didn’t sound right, either. 

“You should,” Crowley said softly. 

Ezra shook his head. “Love, they can’t declare you to be sound of mind yet. You need to wake all the way up, get the drugs out of your system. Then you can make that decision. You’ve been unconscious for three days.” 

Crowley was about to respond when another wave of dizziness hit him. The room was far too cold, his vision tunneled around Ezra’s face and then blackened out completely. 

He could still feel Ezra holding his hand, sweat beading on his face, but his body wouldn’t respond. He couldn’t get to do anything he wanted it to, he couldn’t get it to even open its eyes again. 

“Mister Fell? The Duecks are on their way back up from lunch, we need to get you out of here before they get back or we’ll all be in a lot of trouble.” 

Ezra gently pulled his hand away from Crowley’s. “Of course. Thank you for sneaking me in,” he replied, and Crowley wanted to scream, to beg him to stay but his lips wouldn’t move. Ezra left the room and there was silence, and there was Crowley lying in bed unable to do anything. 

The next time he woke up, he felt a little better. A little more able to process what was happening. 

He managed to look directly at Kezia Dueck. “Get out,” he said, very clearly, startling both Kezia and Tobias Dueck, and the doctor in the room who he hadn’t noticed yet. 

“Good afternoon, Mister Crowley, it’s good to see you awake,” the doctor said, smiling down at him. “How are you feeling?” 

Crowley ignored the doctor. He couldn’t sit up, his body wouldn’t let him, but he stared directly at Kezia Dueck and repeated himself. “Get out.” 

“Sweetheart, you’re disoriented,” Kezia said, “we’re just here to help.” 

“Get  _ out!” _ Crowley found himself out of breath as soon as he finished snapping, but the doctor finally seemed to take notice. 

“Mister Crowley, are you asking to have her removed?” He asked, very seriously. 

“Our daughter is disoriented and confused, she doesn’t know what she’s saying-” Tobias started, Crowley interrupted. “We have the right to-”

“Your rights do indeed trump those of a fiance who has no legal proof of his engagement to the patient. However, Mister Dueck, I don’t have to be a lawyer to know that the patient, upon turning eighteen, trumps everyone. Now, Mister Crowley has been a legal adult for seventeen years now, which means he does get the final say.”

“She’s mentally unfit! She just woke up from a coma!”

“In order to remove Mister Crowley’s autonomy you will need to pursue a case proving him to be mentally incapable of making his own decisions, and that is something that will have to be proven by a psychiatrist. Until that point, the hospital still refers to Mister Crowley. What is it that you want done, Crowley?” 

Crowley knew he needed to be clear and concise, needed to get his point across before things started going fuzzy. “I want Mister and Missus Dueck removed from my room,” he said, as forcefully as he could, “and I want to appoint Ezra Fell as my next of kin.”

The doctor nodded. “Well, that does it, then. I’ll fetch the hospital security, unless you two would be so kind to escort yourselves out, and I’ll be back with the correct papers.” 

Crowley frowned. “And if I go under again?” 

“Your verbal confirmation will count for something, at least enough to keep your parents from seizing control of your medical decisions or removing your fiance again. After all, I do count as a witness.”

Relieved, Crowley allowed his eyes to slip closed again as his parents left the room. 


	33. Chapter 33

“Did you ever know my parents at all?” Warlock asked quietly. 

Crowley shook her head. “I was  _ supposed _ to go in and act as your nanny for a while, scope out the house, but I wasn’t particularly qualified and they hired someone else,” she replied, leaning back against the pillow propped up against the headboard. “I spoke with your mother during an interview, but that was all.” 

She wished she had something more comforting to say. Wished there was a better way for this to be said at all. Warlock was sitting on the opposite end of the bed from her, she suspected he would gladly go further if he didn’t have questions for her. 

She didn’t imagine he wanted to be anywhere  _ near _ her right now. 

She immediately lowered her gaze when Warlock looked over at her. 

It wasn’t like Crowley was particularly thrilled with her situation. Recently out of surgery to have a  _ thankfully _ mostly non-essential organ removed, Bee had ruptured it when they had  _ shot _ her, still groggy and on heavy pain medications, and her left wrist was handcuffed to the bed frame. 

It wasn’t  _ unexpected _ , not now that the people who had kidnapped the son of the American Ambassador and killed the Ambassador and his wife had been apprehended. Bee was dead, but the others  _ knew _ Crowley had been talking to police  _ before _ the bank job. If they found out that their bullet hadn’t killed her, they would be doing everything they could to ruin her credibility and have her take the fall. 

At least there were a couple of officers on her side, Crowley would probably avoid most of the trouble. 

But for now, she was not allowed to leave the hospital before being questioned by police. Hence the handcuffs. 

“I really am sorry,” she muttered. 

“Don’t,” Warlock snapped, glaring at her. “Don’t apologize now and make  _ me _ the bad guy for being mad at you, you  _ lied _ to me for ten years, you helped  _ kill my parents _ and  _ stole me from my family,  _ Miss Crowley you-” 

“I know,” Crowley said quietly. “I’m not trying to make you feel bad. I know you’re angry. I know you probably want nothing to  _ do _ with me and that’s not on you, Warlock. You could never be the bad guy here. And I’m probably driving you crazy admitting that, too, when you want to have to fight with me to place blame but I’m  _ well aware _ who’s to blame. And I know that you’re going to leave when I’ve finished answering your questions, and I don’t expect I’ll hear from you again. But I need to tell you that I’m sorry this happened. If I could have stopped it, I would. And the last ten years haven’t been entirely a lie, Warlock, I really did think of you like a son.”

"I'm not your son. You helped kill my parents, you're not one of them. I wish you had died after all, Miss Crowley. You helped kill my parents why should you get to live when they died?"

Warlock stormed out of the room before Crowley could say anything else. 

She deserved to be told that. She deserved to be hurt, she knew that. 

Crowley allowed herself to slide back down so she was lying on her back again, tried as hard as she could to ignore the sting of tears burning her eyes. 

She had  _ known _ that when Warlock found out, the illusion would be over. Had  _ known _ that when Warlock learned the truth he was more than likely to reject Crowley for the lies and the deceit and her role in the murder of his parents, but it didn’t mean it didn’t  _ hurt _ . 

She really did love the boy. She hadn’t needed to fake that, within  _ days _ of bringing him home he started to worm his way into her heart. 

The tears that she had no right to be crying rolled down her cheeks, hit the pillowcase. More gathered in her eyelashes as she tried to furiously blink them away. 

“Anne?” 

Crowley recognized the voice, although Ezra didn’t typically use her first name. “Come in, angel.”

She didn’t instantly get told not to call him that. She breathed a sigh of relief for that. Ezra stepped into the room, made his way to the chair beside Crowley’s bed. “I've ask your parents to leave and they finally listened," he started, taking a seat, "I imagine they're not through with us, but there isn't much they can do right now. Warlock is being well looked after, I've had a long talk with Delilah Dachner. She seems to be a wonderful woman, much more forgiving than I would expect. She'll take good care of Warlock now, I've made sure." 

Crowley squeezed her eyes shut  _ tight _ , trying to discourage anymore tears. “Thank you.” 

Ezra was silent for a while. “Was all of this just an act, Anne?” He asked finally, sounding like he had tears of his own gathering on his voice. 

“None of it was,” Crowley whispered, turning over a little to face Ezra. “I can’t count how many times I wished it was all the truth.”

She paused. “Warlock doubtlessly doesn’t believe that. I don’t expect you to believe me, either,” she admitted. 

“Warlock has just found out that everything he believed for the last ten years was a lie. I haven’t. I’m glad to hear it wasn’t an act, because I find that I’m not quite ready to turn my back on you, as angry as I am,” Ezra admitted, “I’d feel much worse if I was sticking beside someone who had never cared for me at all. I  _ do _ believe you, Anne, even though I don’t really want to. Why else did you think I would still be here? I could have left when your parents arrived, left you at their discretion and never looked back, if I was capable of doing such a thing.”

Crowley’s heart swelled and she thought it might burst, but all that really happened was that she  _ actually _ began crying. She tried hard to fight back the tears but they just kept falling. 

Ezra, to more than Crowley deserved, didn't recoil. He took her unchained hand, held on the whole time she cried. 

"Why Anne?" She asked finally, "y'never called me Anne before…" 

"I thought it would get your attention, love, that's all. I can go back to calling you Crowley if you'd prefer." 

"Warlock's the only one who called me Anne…" Crowley trailed off, sniffled. 

"Does it bother you?"

"No," she said, looking shiftily around the room. "I like it a lot more than what my parents have been calling me."

She had tried so many times to get her parents to understand. Not only when she had come out and changed her name, but before that, too. She's been giving them chance after chance to accept her and understand her from the moment she introduced them to her very first girlfriend. 

They had never taken it. They had refused to even consider a new name, or new pronouns. They had thrown her out over it, and now they were back because they thought they could control her life. 

Crowley couldn't be more grateful that Ezra had chased them away.

"I haven't been paying attention to what your parents have been calling you. I'm not interested in what your name used to be, and I will happily remain without that knowledge. I think Anthony is a splendid name. Or Anne, as you’re using at the moment,” he added, “lovely and sweet.” 

“‘M not sweet,” Crowley protested. 

"You are rather sweet, when you want to be." Ezra insisted, smiling at her. "You went out and got tickets to a play you don't even like because you knew it was my favorite, in order to try and make up for breaking your ankle on a date, as if that were ever something you had to make up for."

"I promised I'd escort you to the fundraiser, that didn't include breaking my ankle and needing to go to emergency," Crowley said softly, "I spend a lot of time in the hospital, don't I?"

Ezra laughed. "You rather do, although this one couldn't be further from your fault. You did get shot, after all."

"Warlock thinks I deserved it," Crowley said suddenly, looking downcast. "Said it's not fair that I lived and the Dowlings died and he's  _ right,  _ Ezra. Why do I live through Bee shooting me when they died and it was partially my fault?" 

Ezra took Crowley's hand in his own. "Because sometimes, that's how life goes, darling. Sometimes it's not fair and we just have to live with it. There must still be something you need to do. You're not finished yet, and I couldn't be more glad, no matter how angry I am with you over the fact that you kept this from me, no matter how confused I am on how to feel about you, knowing what I know. You still have a chance to set this right, and I have a chance to help you and stay by your side and we shouldn't complain. I don't know why you survived and the Dowlings didn't, but it's not something you should feel  _ guilty  _ for, no matter what Warlock says to you." 

Crowley looked like Hell, and Ezra wasn't just being mean. 

She was groggy and tired, she had stopped fading in and out of consciousness now, but that was the extent of the improvement. She still looked pale and sickly, her voice was soft and weak, breathing still ragged and weak. She had a cannula up in her nose rather than the mask now, still had a multitude of IV lines poking out of various veins, but most upsetting, easily, was the steel handcuff attaching her wrist to the bed frame. 

It was just so clearly  _ unnecessary.  _ Crowley wasn't going anywhere, you could tell just by looking at her, but she was cuffed to the bed and it was lucky the doctors had managed to keep the police at the  _ door,  _ standing guard, rather than in the room, interrogating the clearly exhausted and loopy victim. 

Ezra knew Crowley wasn't innocent, knew she had done terrible things, but it didn't mean he had to like how she was now being treated. She was in no state to cause problems and he couldn't understand why they insisted on dealing with her like a dangerous thug. 

Ezra had been searched before he'd been allowed in the room. He couldn't bring anything they thought might help Crowley escape inside. 

Crowley wasn't in any state to make an escape. She was so obviously still out of it, even though she was talking coherently. 

This time, when Ezra entered the room, there was a thin sheen of sweat on Crowley's forehead, and she was shivering a little. He would have addressed it immediately were it not for what he knew would be Crowley's more urgent concerns.

Now, now that he was holding onto Crowley's shaking hand, he wondered if he should be worried about her. 

Even with his misgivings, Ezra wasn't too worried about a high temperature and the occasional cough. Crowley had just had relatively major surgery, it made sense that she wasn't tip-top. 

"It doesn't change the fact that he's right, Ezra. They should be alive right now. I had a hand in making that happen, and no one is about to forget that." 

She shook her hand and rattled the cuff around her wrist. 

"And you did all you could to set it right. Your sentence isn't for Warlock or I to decide."

Crowley bit her lip. "Speaking of sentences…" 

"You cooperated fully with the police, did you not arrange a deal when you first came to them?" Ezra asked. 

"There was too much uncertainty in what my help would get them, and this is about to be and  _ incredibly  _ political case, Ezra. There's no way the politics of it are going to  _ let  _ me get out of this without trouble. I don't expect you to deal with it with me," Crowley replied, sighing, "there's charges of kidnapping and accessory to murder to be leveled. Given who died, it's too serious to be left off with nothing and I don't want to put you through a prison sentence." 

"Crowley, we'll cross that bridge when we get there. I'm not planning on going anywhere, I promised you that when I gave you that ring. I don't intend to break the promise, not ever." 

"All of this and you still want to get married,?" Crowley asked, looking up at him in surprise.

"I would marry you in the hospital chapel if I didn't know what we both would like a bit bigger. You have your flower ideas and I'm rather excited about the cake, but if you told me to forget it and make my vows to you tomorrow, I still would. Because I know that we're going to work through this. Things are far from perfect right now, but we'll deal. I can visit you if you do time, stay with you if you're simply placed on probation. We'll work this out." 

Crowley's eyes welled up with tears, she smiled, a little shakily, at Ezra. "Thank you, angel." 

Ezra kissed her cheek and brushed a strand of red hair behind her ear. Crowley yawned, tried to hide it. 

"You can get some sleep, dear. You need all the rest you can get, to get better, my love. I should go and talk with Adam," Ezra told her, this time, kissed her lips, they were warmer than normal, but she'd just had her spleen removed, he imagined that some symptoms were normal.

Crowley smiled demurely, settled back down into the covers and closed her eyes. 

Ezra kept an eye on her until she was peacefully asleep, snoring ever so slightly the way that she always did, and always denied.

Then he stepped out of the room, and went to find Adam. The poor boy had slept the night at the hospital, just as Ezra had himself, but he did feel bad. The boy's life was being uprooted again, for the second time in as many years, with the possibility of similar results barely gone.

Adam had just lost his parents. It had been a little over a year, but Ezra knew that didn't even close to shaking the sting. He had barely decided to trust Ezra, and to accept him as a guardian.

And then Ezra had begun adding to his family. First just with visits that the boys place bets on, then dating, and then a proposal. Adam was supposed to be regaining a family, or at least more of one than he already had with Ezra. Gaining another guardian, and a brother.

Ezra was loathe to watch him lose that. 

Now Crowley had nearly died, and Warlock was to be sent off with his proper guardian. He and Crowley had already agreed they were still getting married, but things would be difficult for a long time, and who knew how Adam was going to react to the news of what Crowley had done? 

Ezra had worked so hard to build stability into Adam's life, to make him feel safe in his position and feel as though he could finally rest and heal in a stable environment, and this had come along and stolen that all from him. 

He found Adam in the waiting room where he had left him, walked up to him and apologized for leaving him on his own.

"How would you feel about some lunch, Adam? I have a favor to ask you, and I know it's not fair to ask what you favor at this moment, but there's no one else I can ask."

Adam perked up at the mention of food. He let Ezra guide him to the hospital cafeteria, where he ordered them both some sandwiches. 

"So what's the favor?" Adam asked, his mouth full of peanut butter and jam. 

"Warlock has been through an awful lot lately, and he could really use a friend to listen to him. I know it's not really a favor for you to go and see him, but I think it will go better if I don't tell you everything that's going on. That way Warlock gets the chance to tell this from his perspective. I think he could use a chance to talk to someone who's not biased, who hasn't had this all explained to them. You're the only one I can think of. You're his friend, and the police, Delilah Dachner, myself, Crowley, we were all in some way a part of this. I really think he needs someone who isn't right now," Ezra explained, "I should tell you what's going on, but I believe that a genuine reaction would be the best thing you could give Warlock, so I'm reluctant to tell you any details. We all had time to process, maybe it would be better for Warlock to talk to someone who hasn't."

Adam come completed Ezra, chewing carefully on his peanut butter and jam sandwich. "I'll definitely go talk to Warlock," he agreed, "but I'm not so sure you should send me in completely blind. I have no idea what's going on right now, you've barely explained how Crowley got shot, never mind why she was there in the first place."

"One question I can answer is why Crowley was there. She was a part of the bank robbery, through old associates of hers. They didn't give her much of a choice but to be a part of it, it's why she left Warlock with us. She knew he would be safe with us while she was away."

Adam seemed overwhelmed with this information. "Is she in trouble, Ezra?"

Ezra side. "A bit, yes. But she was always working towards what she believed was right. Warlock will have more to tell you, and I don't want to taint your thoughts in one direction or another. I just want you to be a friend to Warlock."

Adam nodded. "I think I can pull that off."


	34. Chapter 34

Crowley was less coherent today than he had been yesterday, and it was making Ezra nervous. He had been reassured to see the improvement yesterday, even with everything bad that was still happening and the set of handcuffs in play, that were not being used for play at all. He had been glad to see that Crowley was awake, mostly coherent and on the mend.

Now that didn't seem to be the case. Crowley was still awake, yes, was still talking, but he was making less and less sense, and Ezra didn't think that he was making it up. He was fairly sure this was actually happening, and he wasn't just being paranoid. Crowley didn't seem to be doing as well today as he had been yesterday, and Ezra couldn't fathom why that would be. 

The surgery had been successful, sure, Crowley was immunocompromised for life and was going to have to learn to adjust to that, but a splenectomy wasn't particularly uncommon. Every time damage was done to a spleen, from what Ezra had had explained to him, either the entirety or part of it was removed. There was just no repairing it, and the human body could live without it. Many people lived with asplenia, saw a full recovery from the injury that had caused it to be removed and never had a problem. They would be administered more vaccines, and they would have to be careful, but they would live a happy and long life with no long-standing consequences, and Ezra wasn't sure that Crowley looked like he was about to get that. 

He still had a fever, and it only seems to be getting worse. His forehead was burning up, a thin sheen of sweat glistened on his skin.

And he complained of it being cold. Ezra had only had Adam for about a year and a half at best, but he was well aware of the fact that people who had fevers often felt cold, even as their temperature rose.

Crowley was shivering as he listened attentively to whatever Ezra was saying, even Ezra wasn't 100% sure what he was talking about anymore. He was distracted, trying to work out if something was actually wrong with crowley, or if his imagination was running wild, if he was just too worried about his fiance after the last few days.

It had been a stressful few days, Ezra had to agree to that. Crowley had been in the hospital after being shot, had been rushed into surgery, and had come out of that surgery in a coma from which he didn't awaken for a good 2 days. There had been a lot of time for Ezra to sit and think and stress about what was going on. He understood that his nerves were running away with him, but everything was probably better than it seemed.

Ezra kept talking, about what, he didn't really know, twisting his engagement ring on his pinky finger. It had become a nervous tick of his, and he likes twisting it, playing with it just as a reminder that it was still there. That it was still there and he was sitting at the bedside of the man who had given it to him.

That someday, even if it wasn't soon, everything they had promised each other would come true. Crowley had a great many opinions about the flowers for their wedding, although most notably he had mentioned liking marigolds and lilies, neither of which were traditionally autumn flowers, but he did assure Ezra that if they picked them, he would be able to get them.

Ezra was fully prepared to indulge Crowley with the flowers. After all, his fiance was a florist. If he left the flowers entirely to Crowley, he had no doubt they would be stunning, and both of them would love them. 

Crowley had been guessing at what sort of flowers to bring Ezra for almost a year now, and it had never failed him. He always brought something wonderful.

Ezra, on the other hand, had been placed in charge of the cake and food, since he was _Crowley’s foodie fiance,_ as Crowley liked to lovingly call him. Crowley had immediately decided that Ezra should choose the food, since he was a connoisseur and had never steered Crowley wrong yet. 

“Ezra? You seem distracted,” Crowley remarked, a slight pout on his face. He was squinting in the harsh light of the hospital room, but his sunglasses were nowhere to be found and he was just being made to live with it. “Is something wrong?”

Ezra smiled down at Crowley, pressed another kiss to his clammy and sweat-slick forehead. “Nothing, darling, just glad to be talking with you,” he replied. 

“You’re a shitty liar, Ezra. I should give you lessons sometime, I’ve learned to be an _excellent_ liar.”

“I hope you’re not using those skills against me, Crowley.” 

“Not anymore, angel,” Crowley promised, “nothing but the truth for my lovely fiance from now on.” 

“I’m glad to hear it, Crowley.” 

Ezra could help but to fall into the easy rhythm that he and Crowley had used to have together. He knew it wasn’t really right, after all that had changed between them, all the truths revealed, but he was happy to let himself slip back into his normal behaviour, even while doting and worrying about Crowley now that he had been shot. 

“You know, angel, I thought of when we should get married. I’ve always thought a Fall wedding would be nice, but it would be nice to still be able to do it outside. So… we could get married around the anniversary of us meeting,” Crowley suggested. 

“What, when you stormed across the street and tried to accost me over Adam’s poor behaviour? You want to celebrate _that_ meeting? Not really a meet-cute, Crowley,” Ezra remarked. 

“I wouldn’t have it any other way, Ezra. We managed to both convince the kids to be friends, and become friends ourselves, all after one of the worst introductions ever. You know I thought you were infuriatingly cute when I met you? I was going to bite your head off about Adam giving Warlock a black eye, and then I laid eyes on you and tripped over my own damn tongue, Ezra. That’s a meet-cute if I’ve ever heard one, angel.”

“I suppose it is,” Ezra agreed, smiling. 

Crowley laid back down against the bed, closed his eyes, took a deep breath. 

“Crowley, are you feeling alright, dear?” Ezra asked, frowning, “if you’re tired, I can come back later. You’ve lots to recover from, my love. You’ve just been shot, and I can understand if you need rest.”

“No, I-” Crowley frowned, opened his eyes again. “Sorry, what were you saying, Ezra?” He asked, his fingers twitching a little as he spoke. 

“I was asking if you wanted me to let you get some sleep, Crowley,” Ezra replied, biting his lip and leaning in a little closer to Crowley. 

Crowley just stared at him, golden eyes blank and hazy. Ezra moved a little bit backwards, shifting towards the door. “Crowley, are you sure you’re alright?” 

Crowley didn’t answer. He fell completely backwards against the cot, and Ezra jumped to his feet as suddenly the red head started convulsing, arms and legs jerking as he nearly fell off the bed. 

“Nurse! Nurse, come quickly!” Ezra cried, running to the doorway but finding himself unable to go any further from Crowley’s side. His fiance was still convulsing, muscles contracted and limbs jerking. 

Ezra didn’t know what to do. He had taken emergency first aid before opening the bookshop but staring at _Crowley,_ having it be _Crowley_ who was convulsing in front of him, every word the instructor had said fled from his mind. He could only stare helplessly at the writhing form on the bed, listening to the jangle of the handcuffs as it was pulled against the bedframe.

A nurse ran in, took a look around. “He’s seizing!” She called into the hall, then turned to Ezra. “Sir, we’re going to have to ask you to leave the room now,” she said, and then flat-out ignored him as she turned to Crowley and checked his breathing. 

Another nurse rushed into the room and escorted Ezra out as a doctor ran down the hall. “Sir, come sit in the waiting room, we’ll come and find you once we know what’s causing this.” 

“What are you going to do to him?” Ezra asked fearfully, teeth worrying at his lip. “He was getting better!” 

“I understand that, sir, sometimes recovery is not linear. The doctor will likely want to send him for an MRI if we can’t explain the seizure physically. Your fiance is going to receive the best possible care, we need you to sit down and take a breath. We have this under control and we’ll let you know as soon as we have something.”

“Is he going to die?” 

Ezra had hoped it was a stupid question. Had hoped for a reassuring smile and the nurse to tell him that no, Crowley was certainly not going to die from this, it was simply a seizure, nothing to be concerned about. 

He didn’t get that. “We’ll tell you as soon as we know anything. Do you want someone to stay with you?”

“Shouldn’t you be looking after Crowley?” Ezra demanded. 

“There’s many parts to a trauma team. The people in the room can handle the medical emergency, I’m here to help _you_ through this.”

“I shouldn’t need help, if you all do your jobs!” Ezra said desperately, tapping his foot against the ground as his anxiety grew in his stomach. “Crowley should be fine if everyone does their jobs! I mean, he was out of the woods, wasn’t he? He survived the surgery, that was the important part, wasn’t it?”

The nurse sighed. “It’s a lot more complicated than that, Mister Fell. There are a lot of post-surgical complications that can crop up, and while the medically induced coma was supposed to help with a lot of that, there’s still a lot of risk involved. It’s no simple procedure, we had to remove a large part of his immune system and surgery always leads to a risk of post-surgical infection.”

“But- but that’s what antibiotics are for, aren’t they?” Ezra asked. 

“We have been keeping him on a course of broad-spectrum antibiotics, but it’s not always enough. You just need to relax and let us figure out what’s wrong, and we’ll look after it from there. There’s a lot that can be wrong, but there’s a lot we can do, too. We’re still in early stages. Go and find your son, spend some time with him, and we’ll find you the moment we have anything to share with you,” the nurse said gently. 

Ezra didn’t particularly _like_ the instructions, he wanted to stay as near to Crowley as he possibly could, but he hadn’t gone to see Adam since he had sent the boy to go and find Warlock and talk to him, and then immediately after that talk, in which Adam lamb-basted him for sending the boy blindly into that situation and asked the very difficult to answer question that Ezra didn’t fully know the answer to, which was why on _earth_ he was still marrying a man he knew to be a kidnapper and accessory to murder. 

Ezra supposed that the answer was love, but to a twelve-year-old that wasn’t a very good reason, so he let Adam make his comments, since at the end of it Adam just agreed and said that as long as Crowley wasn’t going it _anymore_ he supposed he would still make a decent step-guardian. 

So, Ezra reluctantly got up from his seat and set off to find where Adam was hiding out now. There were plenty of places in the hospital that could entertain a boy, but Ezra was fairly sure he’d be playing video games with the young man who’s little sister was undergoing chemotherapy.

Sure enough, Adam was playing some sort of violent video game with the boy, although Ezra wasn’t particularly concerned about the content of the game. Adam was not a violent boy. 

“Adam?” Ezra called, stepping into the games room. “Adam, dear, the school year is going to begin next week, I think we should have a talk about your participation. Now, I’m not expecting you to go back immediately if you aren’t ready-”

“I would like to go back to school. I miss Pepper and Wensley and Brian, Ezra. It… it would be good to see some of my friends again, you know?” Adam replied, pausing the game and looking up at Ezra. “It would be nice to get back to something… normal. I obviously still want to visit, he _is_ going to be my step-guardian and I know you’re worried, but I would like to go back to school, Ezra. When it begins, next week. I don’t want to be the kid who shows up late for the new school year,” he explained. 

Ezra nodded, took a seat on another plush chair beside Adam and the other boy. 

“Is Crowley alright, Ezra? Why are you in here instead of looking after Crowley, I thought he was awake now!” 

Ezra was quiet for a moment. “He seized while I was in the room. They don’t know why yet,” Ezra replied, looking down at his hands. “They said that they would let me know as soon as they have any information, but I’m supposed to just… just mill about this hospital until they have anything to tell me!” The blond cried in despair. “As if I can just _walk away_ and it all goes away!” 

Adam frowned. “I’m sure they’ll let us know as soon as they have anything to tell us,” the boy said reasonably. 

The boy with Adam spoke up. “I’m not always allowed to see my sister, Mister Fell, and they make me sit and wait too. But I know they’re doing everything they can to help us. It’s easiest if you sit and relax, and everything will be alright, I’m sure.”

“Did you want to play?” Adam offered, holding the video game controller out to Ezra, who shook his head. 

“I’m not so sure that the game you two are playing is much to my taste. You enjoy yourselves, I’ll just wait here for news.” 

And that was what Ezra did. He sat quietly on the chair while Adam and the boy resumed their game until a doctor knocked on the door and cleared her throat. 

“Mister Fell? I have some news,” she said, seeming to stand a little nervously in the doorway. 

“Yes?” Ezra asked, jerking his head up to look at her. 

“We were going to do an MRI after the seizure ended, to check to see if something was wrong in his brain, but due to the nature of the machine we always do an x-ray first, and that’s where we found the problem.” 

The doctor walked over and held an x-ray image up to the light. “Everything involved with a surgery is chipped with a bit of metal so we can find it on an x-ray. That chip right there…” she pointed to a bright spot in the x-ray of someone’s, _Crowley’s_ , chest, “that’s a sponge. We have to bring him back into surgery to get it out, it’s become infected. It’s what’s causing the fever, and the seizures.”

Ezra couldn’t make himself say anything. 


	35. Chapter 35

Ezra had not wanted to spend more time with Crowley in surgery. It wasn’t fair, sitting back outside those automatic sliding doors, waiting for the surgeons to fix their own mistake. 

How could they be so clumsy as to forget a sponge inside? It would be like Ezra forgetting to sell the dress cover with the book he was selling. It was their job. 

It wasn’t so unreasonable to expect that this wouldn’t happen. It really wasn’t. 

He sat in frustration, outside the doors until a doctor approached him. 

“We’ve gotten the sponge out, the wound has gone septic. He’s still unconscious, but he should wake up soon. We’ve got him on heavy antibiotics and fluids, and while the infection is serious, we don’t believe there will be any lasting damage. I know this has been stressful for you, but you should be able to rest, soon.” 

“How did this happen?” Ezra asked desperately, staring up at the man before him. 

“Sponges… they discolour easily. Unfortunately it’s not uncommon for things to be left behind during a surgery, especially sponges and rags. They quickly take on the colour of their surroundings and blend in, particularly in open-chest surgeries. This, unfortunately, is not something we’re unaccustomed to seeing.” 

Ezra nodded. 

"Do you have any other concerns or questions about your fiance's condition?" The doctor asked, taking a seat beside Ezra. "I know this must be rough on you, we would like to clarify things as much as we can."

"Just- Crowley will wake up soon, won't he? You haven't put him in another coma this time, so he should wake up soon!" 

The doctor bit his lip. "This sepsis is very advanced, but we're fighting it with everything we can. We're hoping to see a full recovery. I can't make you any promises on when he'll wake up, but I do believe you'll get to speak with him soon."

Such was not the case. By the next day, Crowley was not yet awake and this time, the doctors hadn’t used anything to keep him unconscious. 

Ezra was worried sick. The nurse who visited every hour to check on Crowley’s vitals and ensure that his IV fluids were topped up assured Ezra that Crowley was very likely fine, although there was talk that there had been more complications in surgery, just like last time. 

Ezra didn’t dare wonder what the complication had been. 

Had his heart stopped again? If so, how long had he gone without a pulse this time? Was there really any hope that he woke up at all?

He sat in silence for most of the day, in the uncomfortable seat in Crowley's room, clinging to one of Crowley's hands. 

Crowley was breathing, although it was fairly uneven, deeply, eyes closed, skin pale and clammy. 

Ezra didn't pray very often. 

He knew he should, really, he had dragged Crowley to a church fundraiser and he barely remembered to pray before eating once a month, but now he held Crowley's cold fingers to his lips and murmured a desperate prayer.

He didn't know if he would be listened to, he didn't know if it would help, he didn't even know if Crowley would want him to. 

Crowley had a bad experience with the church, his parents were clearly some sorts of fanatics, they'd driven Ezra more than a little crazy while they were in the hospital, but Ezra found that this wasn't about them or even Crowley.

This was something he needed to do. He needed to close his eyes and pray for mercy, pray for healing, pray to hear Crowley's voice again. 

It was most of the way through the second day of Crowley’s coma that Ezra decided he had to get out of hospital. He couldn’t stay any longer, it had been too long as it was. He needed to sleep in his own bed, to spend just one night away from the hospital, not worrying over the life or death of his fiance. It was selfish, yes, to need to escape so badly, to need to ignore the fact that Crowley might be dying. Crowley had been shot, after all, shot twice, while doing the right thing, and despite his mistakes he deserved Ezra’s support. He deserved to be loved and supported and to have someone in his corner, but Ezra just couldn’t do it. Not tonight. He needed a break. He had earned a break. He had been through so much lately, and he deserved a break. 

He arranged for Adam to spend the night with some friends, it had been a while since the boy had seen Pepper and Brian and Wensleydale and he gladly agreed to spend the night visiting. Ezra dropped the boy off at Wensleydale’s house first, with an overnight bag and a promise and he would be back in the morning and they would go school supply shopping. 

Adam would need to have fresh supplies if he was to begin school again. Ezra, for his part, thought he might go through the flower shop and get rid of the rotting blooms that would irritate his fiance if he got home and saw them in such a state. 

Then he would go to the bookshop, make some nice cocoa, sit down with a good book and try to destress from the last week he’d navigated through. 

When he made it to the front of Fleurish Flowers, however, he was surprised to find the door sealed off with a white sheet of paper taped over the handle. There was yellow tape across both the front and back doors, and the same message on each. 

CRIME SCENE! NO ADMITTANCE. 

No crime had transpired in the flower shop, or Crowley’s flat. The crime in question was a bank robbery, and Ezra had half a mind to cut through the paper seal and go in anyways, only he figured that would lead to him being arrested and accused of tampering with evidence, whatever it was they were trying to find in Crowley’s flat. 

So he backed off from the door and crossed the street, only to find that his own bookshop was similarly sealed. 

He stared at the locked and sealed door in disbelief. Where was he supposed to go? He could return to the hospital, certainly, but that wasn’t the point. He needed to get out of that place, and now he couldn’t even take refuge in his own home. 

Maybe he should look for a hotel? A quiet place to spend the night, with a real bed, not the chairs in a waiting room. 

He was about to get back into the car he had rented when a lady with a fun pink wig ran across the street and over to him. “Mister Fell! Ezra! The police have been crawling all over this place, I’ve been waiting to see you or Mister Crowley!” She cried. 

Ezra whorled around to face the woman, but offered no explanation. 

“I asked one of the officers, he said you were both in the hospital,” she explained, “and that Mister Crowley had been arrested?”

Ezra took a deep breath, sighed. “That’s all true, Madame Tracy,” he agreed, biting at his lip. “Crowley was shot trying to foil a bank robbery from the inside, but he’s all caught up in it so he’s also under investigation. It’s… all very complicated.” 

“Why is your bookshop sealed up as well?” Madame Tracy asked, furrowing eyebrows that did not match the bubble gum pink wig she had chosen that morning. 

“I… I was attacked by two corrupt police officers, that might be it. They probably just want to keep the scene intact until they have them put away for sure. I was going to come home and get some rest in a real bed, but I guess I can’t get into my flat. I’d better just go back to the hospital.”

“Nonsense!” Madame Tracy declared, shaking her head and placing both hands on Ezra’s arm. “We have a spare bedroom, you can stay with us for the night. I’m sure you need some rest. Will Mister Crowley be coming too?” 

Ezra’s voice caught in his throat when he started to answer. “He’s- he’s still in the hospital. They had to take out his spleen and then they made some sort of mistake and had to bring him back into surgery, and he hasn’t woken up since then. I shouldn’t have left the hospital but I just-”

“Ezra, it’s completely understandable that you left the hospital. You come back and we’ll have a nice cup of tea, you can get a good night’s sleep and you’ll be far more use to Mister Crowley in the morning when you’re not in a daze. I’m sure he’ll understand that you needed a break.” 

Madame Tracy didn’t give him much of a chance to argue, she led him back to the little bungalow she shared with Sergeant Shadwell and put the tea kettle on the stove. 

“Mister Shadwell? Mister Fell is here, he can’t get into his own home so I said we would put him up for the night. Do make sure he feels welcome?” 

Shadwell just grunted something about a Southern Pansy, which Ezra had learned to take as the nicest thing that Shadwell was ever going to say about him. He took at seat at the kitchen table to wait for Madame Tracy to return with tea. 

It was good to sleep in a real bed, although all the pink bedsheets were confusing, and Ezra found a lot of unexplained things in the pillows that weren’t so unexplained when you considered that Madame Tracy had retired from prostitution years ago, and that was more unsettling. 

But it was a good night’s sleep despite the squeaker toy he laid down on, and the pink sparkly whip hidden under one of the pillows. He actually felt as though he had gotten some real sleep and really managed to get some rest, so he thanked Madame Tracy and Sergeant Shadwell profusely and did not mention the whip he had found. 

He got back into his rental car after checking his phone to ensure there was no news from the hospital, although he desperately hoped to see a text from Crowley, which was ridiculous, Crowley didn’t even have his cellphone at the moment. 

Then he went and got Adam. They truly did need to go supply shopping if Adam wanted to enter the school year in proper time, so they had best get on it. Normally Ezra would have done it sooner, but with the faintest hint of wedding plans, the vacation and then another trip that this time both boys had been invited to partake in, there hadn’t been a lot of time. 

He and Crowley had been meant to bring Warlock and Adam shopping on the same weekend that Crowley had been shot. 

He needed to adjust. He needed to reformulate the plan, make one that didn’t involve Warlock or Crowley or anything that had become important since he had taken Adam in besides Adam. 

He just had to keep moving forward. There was nothing else he could do. 

So after he had eaten a quick breakfast and grabbed Adam from the Wensleydales, and headed for a supply shop. 

He hardly paid any attention to what Adam picked out, which was probably not a wise decision, considering he was pretty sure Adam snuck quite a few things that he didn’t particularly need for school, and Ezra’s wallet didn’t particularly need to stretch to cover, but he didn’t argue. It had been a stressful enough time, and he was willing to indulge Adam on a few nicer items than he truly did need.

Then he brought Adam out for lunch. Back to the little creperie near Lilith Ashtoreth’s office. Ezra did have fond memories of this place, he hadn’t forgotten that he had ran into Crowley here and other than a phone call which he now knew who it was from, they’d had an excellent lunch. 

Adam ordered a mountain of chocolate crepes that he ended up packing most of it up into a doggy bag, which was rather a good thing since the hospital cafeteria was getting old for both of them, but Adam, a picky eater, especially. 

Before they left the restaurant, Ezra stopped Adam. "Thank you," he said, placing a hand on the boy's shoulder and smiling at him. 

"For what, Ezra?" 

Ezra sighed. "For everything, really. For dealing with this all so well, for being such a good friend to Warlock, and for this one normal day. I know it sounds terrible, but I really needed just one normal day." 

Adam nodded. 

"And… I should tell you something. I don't think we'll be able to go home anytime soon. They have our house blocked off for evidence, because we were attacked by police, I think. Is there somewhere you would want to go when school starts? I can't imagine you want to stay in the hospital. I'm sure Madame Tracy and Sergeant Shadwell would look after you, but if you would prefer staying with a friend, I could try to arrange it," he offered. 

Adam smiled. "I'll be fine staying with Madame Tracy and Sergeant Shadwell, I don't mind."

Ezra was about to say something else when his phone rang. "So sorry, Adam. Just one moment."

Adam nodded, and Ezra lifted his cellphone to his ear. "Hello?" 

"Have we reached Mister Ezra Fell?" A voice asked on the other end of the line. 

"Yes you have, what appears to be the problem?" Ezra asked, starting to feel just the tiniest bit of anxiety crawl up in his stomach. 

"I'm calling from the hospital, you're listed as Anthony Jay Crowley's next of kin."

"Yes, I'm his fiance. Is something wrong?" 

"You should come back to the hospital, his heart has stopped and the doctors are still working to start it again. We need you here for any medical decisions that may need to be made." 

Ezra's voice died in his throat the second he tried to speak. 

"Mister Fell? Did you hear me?" The doctor asked gently. 

"Y- yes," Ezra stammered, staring directly ahead and seeming to worry Adam, who couldn't more clearly be asking what was wrong if he was speaking out loud instead of mouthing the words. "I need a minute to drop my nephew off with a friend and I'll be right there." 

"Please hurry, Mister Fell. We may need you rather promptly."

Ezra didn't find the time to explain. He grabbed Adam's hand and raced them out of the restaurant. 

He had to get to the hospital. 

Crowley's heart had stopped, and it felt like so had Ezra's.


	36. Chapter 36

Ezra dropped Adam off with Madame Tracy and Sergeant Shadwell. He knew the boy  _ would _ have objected if it weren’t for the severity of the situation, as he would likely rather go back to a friend’s, but he didn’t argue with how panicked Ezra appeared to be. He didn’t want to cause any problems when Ezra was so desperate to get back to the hospital. 

And desperate, Ezra was indeed. He set off urgently for the hospital, speeding most of the way. 

Thankfully for him, he didn’t get caught, and he rushed the rental car into a parking spot and ran inside, back over to the ward Crowley had been being kept on. 

“Where is he? What’s happened?” He demanded, running up to the front desk. 

“Mister Fell! Will you please come with me?” 

The doctor Ezra recognized. The other person with him, an older gentleman, was not familiar. Ezra felt his chest fill thick with dread. “Is he- he’s not-” 

“We managed to get his heart started again, although it did take up some time,” the doctor assured him, “there’s just a few details that we should discuss in private,” he explained. 

Ezra didn’t like the way that sounded, either, but he agreed to go with the doctor and the unfamiliar man. He followed them into a quiet room with comfortable chairs and he was encouraged to sit down. 

“Mister Fell, I understand that this has been a rather challenging week,” the doctor said quietly. He didn't sit, although the other man did. "There have been a undue number of surprises and complications, and I understand that you may be feeling a lot of stress right now." 

"I just want to see my fiance, doctor," Ezra replied, "when you think he'll wake up? And who are you?" He asked the man sitting across from him. 

"I'm Chris. One of the hospital's grief counsellors," he replied. 

"I don't need a grief counsellor, I need to see my fiance!" Ezra cried. 

"That's the thing, Mister Fell. After the complications he's been through, including the fact that his heart has now stopped three times, we can no longer make promises that he will wake up. The infection is incredibly severe, his blood pressure has tanked, his pulse is weak and any of his organs could give up at any minute. It’s time that we start considering end-of-life plans.” 

Ezra stared at the doctor in shock. “End-of-life plans? You told me he was healing well!” 

“That was before the infection, Mister Fell. The infection changes things, it’s far worse than we’d hoped it would be after the incubation period it had. There are a few options we need to ask you about, given the likelihood that Mister Crowley actually does wake up. As long as we’re still instructed to, we’ll continue to attempt to resuscitate until such a point where it becomes impossible.” 

“Why wouldn’t you keep doing that?” Ezra demanded. 

The grief counsellor, Chris, cleared his throat. “There are a few other options, if you wanted to consider ending his suffering. It’s a lot to be put through, constantly brought back from cardiac arrest. I believe it might be beneficial to talk about signing a DNR.” 

“A DNR?” Ezra echoed, eyes wide with disbelief. 

“Do Not Resuscitate. Normally it would be the patient signing it, with a witness, but in this case Mister Crowley has named you his medical proxy. You have the authority to sign it, and it might be time to consider it. Your fiance is being put through a lot right now, and there comes a time where the alternative is kinder,” The counsellor said gently. 

“And this is because of the infection?” Ezra asked, looking up at the doctor. 

A grim realization was coiling in his stomach. 

“Yes. The infection is extremely severe, and we don’t believe he has good odds of waking up from this. He is in  _ extremely _ poor condition,” the doctor replied, “I’m sorry, Mister Fell, I can only imagine how hard this is to consider-”

“You want me to sign a form saying you don’t have to save my fiance after you’re the ones who put him in this condition?” Ezra asked, frowning.

“Mister Fell, I understand you’re grieving but-”

“Crowley  _ only _ got this infection because you left the sponge in his chest after his surgery,” Ezra said, voice deadly calm. He didn’t need to yell. He needed to get his point across, clearly and concisely, and inform the staff that he would  _ not _ be letting them off the hook for their mistake. They were going to work to the  _ bone _ to keep Crowley alive, he wasn’t signing  _ anything _ absolving them of that responsibility. “He was recovering well from his surgery before the infection set in, was he not?” 

“That is  _ technically _ accurate, Mister Fell, but there is no guarantee that an infection wouldn’t have set in without the sponge. Open chest surgery has a substantial risk for infection, with or without the sponge.” 

“But it set in  _ around _ the sponge. This is, quite simply, doctor,  _ your fault, _ and I won’t be signing anything,” Ezra said, setting his mouth in a grim line. “Not without a lawyer present.”

The doctor tried to say something else, but Ezra got to his feet and made for the door. “If my fiance  _ does  _ die, doctor, let me assure you that I will be holding this hospital responsible to the fullest ability of the law. This is  _ your fault, _ and you are either going to fix it or pay for it.” 

And Ezra left the room. He brushed past nurses and other hospital staff, making for Crowley’s hospital room. He was going to spend his time with Crowley, all of the time that he could. He needed to look after his fiance, he was the only one left to do so. The hospital wanted to give up on him, and Ezra was the last line of defense between death and Crowley. 

He wasn’t going to falter. He was going to protect his fiance. 

He, unlike everyone else, was not going to let Crowley down.

Crowley didn’t look well. He was still unconscious, pale as paper, Ezra could all but sense Death’s presence in the room, hovering over Crowley. He couldn’t banish it, no matter how much he wanted to, Crowley was  _ plainly _ on Death’s door and it hurt Ezra’s heart to see him like this, pale, washed out and barely breathing. 

“Am I being selfish, love?” Ezra asked, taking a seat beside Crowley’s beside and taking his hand. “Should I be listening to what they say? Are they right, my love? Maybe it is time to think about letting you go, but I’m not ready to say goodbye, Crowley. I’m not ready to give up on you, not yet. We’re supposed to get married, you were just telling me about the flowers you wanted and I’m not ready for those to be the choice for your funeral, instead, my love,” Ezra whispered against Crowley’s cold fingers, clinging tightly to his hand. “I know they might be right, it’s not the first time they’ve been right about this, but I don’t know if I  _ can _ agree to what they’re asking. I have to give you more of a chance, love, I know you can pull through. You’ll wake up, and we’ll finish our wedding plans, we’ll be married and no matter what happens to you after the charges are laid, we’ll get through it because I’m not  _ ready  _ to let you go.” 

Ezra knew every word he spoke was true. He couldn’t give up on Crowley, not yet. He had to keep his faith in his fiance, he  _ had _ to. He couldn’t agree to let him go. 

He had to survive. Ezra wasn’t sure how he would survive if Crowley didn’t. He needed Crowley to pull through more than he really needed anything else. Crowley  _ had _ to be okay. There were no other alternatives. Ezra  _ needed _ him to survive. 

But that wasn’t seeming possible. Not anymore. 

The hospital seemed convinced that Crowley was going to die. And it didn’t matter whose fault it was, really, because Crowley was going to die. 

Crowley couldn’t die. Ezra wasn’t ready for Crowley to die, but he couldn’t see how he could possibly have a say in the matter. He could only sit in Crowley’s room and pray. 

And pray he did. He hadn’t prayed this hard in years, but he folded his hands around Crowley’s and sent a prayer up to anyone who might have possibly been listening. 

He didn’t care who answered, he just needed someone to answer his prayers. He needed Crowley to live. 

“Please, darling, you have to live,” Ezra whispered, running a gentle hand through Crowley’s tangled red hair. 

Crowley needed his long hair combed again, he needed a shave. He would hate the stubble growing on his chin, the whiskers above his lips. Crowley had a tendency to shave often, not that he always needed to. Ezra felt that he should uphold that.

Ezra took a deep breath, placed Crowley’s hand back folded across his chest and left the room. He walked up to the front desk. 

“Mister Fell, the doctor is-”

“I don’t want to talk to the doctor. I need a comb and a shaving razor. Crowley’s hair is a mess and he would hate it that way. And he needs a shave. I’d like to do that for him, I want him to look his best,” Ezra said simply, and the person behind the desk agreed. 

“I assume you’ll need shaving foam as well, Mister Fell? Is there something else I can get for you?”

“No, just a comb, shaving foam and a razor,” Ezra replied, “and keep the doctor  _ out _ of the room unless he has something constructive to do. I don’t want to speak to him, I’m not signing  _ anything _ without a legal advisor present, and I will consider further pestering from the doctor or counsellor as undo harassment.”

“Understood, Mister Fell. Just give me a moment to find you your supplies and you can get back to visiting with your fiance,” the woman said, and she walked into the back store room and brought Ezra the supplies he asked for. 

Ezra walked back over to Crowley’s room, determined to accomplish this one task without freaking out. He needed to just get this done. 

He started combing out Crowley’s long red hair, which he was finding he really wished Crowley had let him help with more often before now. He didn’t know why, but he did like sorting out the tangles in Crowley’s soft hair and leaving it shiny and gently curled.

He didn’t like messing with his own hair, which was why it was kept short, that and it had a tendency to become unmanageable if it got too long and curly, but Crowley didn’t appear to have that problem. Ezra would happily spend hours combing his fiance’s long curls, and that was what he did for a good part of the afternoon. Crowley didn’t improve in the slightest, still pale and sweaty and seeming dull and washed out, but Ezra was happy for the task. He tucked Crowley’s hair back behind his ears, kissed his forehead. 

“Let’s give you a shave, too, you always keep so clean shaved and your face is getting a little scratchy here, Crowley,” Ezra murmured, laying the comb to the side and grabbing the can of shaving foam the woman at the desk had given him.

The foam was cold, and he lathered and warmed it in his hands before coating his still-unresponsive fiance’s cheeks, chin and upper lip.

He was incredibly careful, not wanting to nick Crowley’s skin, carefully pulling the blade down Crowley’s face and cutting away the red whiskers growing there. 

Ezra, when he had a little extra money and some spare time, liked to get a shave with his haircut at the barber shop. He was fairly sure his own hand, by consequence, was not particularly steady, but he did his very best to give Crowley an even shave. That was how Crowley would want it. 

It took him an embarrassingly long time, it was quite a different feat to do this on someone else, rather than one’s self, but he did manage eventually, went to fetch a towel from the nurse to wipe away the remnants of the shaving foam that were left around the edges of Crowley’s face, a little up his nostril and a bit in his hair. Ezra dutifully wiped that all away, left his fiance’s face clean-shaven and foam free, and then returned the items to the front desk. They couldn’t be used again, but they preferred he not keep the razor, at the very least. Weapons weren’t allowed in the hospital. 

As for the can of shaving foam and the comb, well, he didn’t really need them either. The hospital could hang onto them to give back at a later date if he needed them again. 

When he got back to Crowley’s room, there were two young doctors standing in the doorway. 

“Bit of a waste of a hospital room, this one, don’t you think?” 

The second doctor snorted. “A bit? God, how long was he out for again?”   
“The first, second or third time?” The first doctor asked, looking over at his friend. “Seriously, I have no idea why they insist on keeping him here. He’s either going to die of the infection or end up in a coma forever, he’s a major downer on our rounds for this floor. We could have someone  _ interesting _ in this room, instead we have the bank robber who got shot by his own crew. There’s a betting pool in the med students room for when he kicks it, you should get in on it. Could win a fair amount of money, god knows any of us could use it,” he offered. 

“Maybe I will,” his friend agreed, “now come on, we should go find an interesting case study we can suggest an  _ actual _ idea for. This is a lost cause.” 

“I’m sorry my fiance’s medical condition is boring you,” Ezra said, in a low, flat tone, and both doctors turned around to face him, almost matching looks of shock and horror on their faces. 

“We didn’t see you there!” 

“Clearly,” Ezra agreed, still not raising his voice, forcing himself to be calm. “A  _ betting _ pool on when my fiance dies, is it? In the medical students lounge? Come with me, I think that myself, your attending doctor and you two have a  _ lot _ to discuss.” 

“It’s just a bit of harmless fun!” One of them cried, “we see this sort of stuff every day, your fiance is no special case!”

Ezra snapped. He had the young doctor by the collar of his white coat and pressed up against the wall in seconds. “Not a special case? He doesn’t have to be a special case, young man, he’s someone’s family and he’s earned  _ far _ more respect than you’re giving him! He’s  _ my _ family and you couldn’t be bothered to make sure that no one was here to listen to what you were saying before you discussed your sodding betting pool!” 

“Mister Fell, you need to let Doctor Morgan go,” a gentle voice said behind Ezra. He didn’t have to turn around to know it was the woman from behind the reception desk. The other footsteps were  _ probably _ hospital security.

“He- he said- they-”

“I heard, and I’ll make certain that you get the chance to talk with their attending, but you need to let Doctor Morgan go,” she said, still gentle and calm. “Please, Mister Fell, if you let go of Doctor Morgan we can sort this out favourably for you. But if you continue to manhandle him then security and possibly the police have to get involved. So can you let go of him?” 

Ezra reluctantly unballed his fists and let the doctor step away from the way. “I want them dealt with,” he said darkly.

“They will be. They’ll be grateful if they still have residencies here when I’m done with them, and they’ll both be making formal apologies,” a doctor said, one that Ezra didn’t recognize. “They’re my residents, and I’ll make sure they’re dealt with. We can discuss the full incident later, Mister Fell, please, go back and see your fiance.” 

Still shaking with rage, Ezra stepped back into Crowley’s room. 


	37. Chapter 37

Ezra was absolutely livid when he saw, a few days later, that the student doctors were still on the same floor as Crowley, but they made no further comments about Crowley’s survival odds, and in fact, didn’t enter his room at all. 

Ezra could live with that. He spent all his time in Crowley’s room, sat in the same chair as always, watching anxiously after his fiance, hoping everything would be okay. 

Delilah brought Warlock to visit on the fourth day Crowley was out, although Warlock didn’t spend any time in Crowley’s room. He went and found Adam and the other boy who’s sister was undergoing chemotherapy, and Delilah stayed in Crowley’s room with Ezra. 

It was good to have some company, even if she was nearly a stranger to him. 

“He’s still in a coma, I see,” Delilah remarked, taking a seat beside him. “Any word on when he’ll wake up?” 

“The doctor doesn’t think he  _ will _ wake up,” Ezra said quietly, looking down at his hands. “They want me to talk end-of-life plans, a DNR, that sort of stuff. His heart stopped again the other day and they don’t think it’s worth trying to start it if it stops again. I don't intend to let them get away with that. They'll get to continue trying to help him until there's  _ nothing  _ else that can be done, and then I'll have a talk with a lawyer. They left a sponge  _ inside  _ his chest, Miss Dachner-"

"Please, Delilah is fine, if I may call you Ezra."

"Of course. They left a sponge  _ inside  _ his chest, Delilah, I can't just let that go. I have to do  _ something,  _ for Crowley! If something happened-" 

"Ezra, plan what you'll do if Crowley dies _ after  _ he dies, alright? For now just keep believing that he's going to be alright, and keep holding onto that. He could live, you could still be married, and live as a happy family," Delilah said softly, "you know I hold neither you nor Crowley any ill will, and I, for one, am still counting on many years of hearing about you two bicker and squabble as a married couple." 

"No ill will is a far cry from hearing our squabbles, Delilah," Ezra remarked.

"You don't honestly think that I'm going to pull Warlock up and out of England, away from all of his friends and family and his entire life, do you? Provided he wants to see you two, and doesn't decide that he  _ wants  _ to move to America, I fully expect to allow him to visit. Crowley raised him for ten years, I don't plan on taking that man away from him now. And this is going to be a busy year for Warlock, with adjusting to a new guardian and the new reality and of course in the summer there's his bar mitzvah _ ,  _ I'll have to start planning that soon or his grandmother will be disappointed…" 

"I'm glad he hasn't missed his bar mitzvah, I don't think Crowley would have had the first clue on how to throw one of those," Ezra remarked. 

"Oh, I didn't expect him to. I do understand that he grew up  _ very  _ Mennonite. He shouldn't know how to throw a Jewish party." 

"His parents are very Mennonite. To say he  _ is _ Mennonite would mean reckoning with what he did with his pastor's son and daughter in the basement of the church when they were teenagers," Ezra laughed. 

“Oh, he was one of those sorts of religious children, was he? Harriet got into a bit of trouble like that when we were younger,” Delilah laughed, smiling at Ezra. “I don’t recall her being so brazen as to do so in the basement of a synagogue, however. She was a little more coy about it.” 

Ezra smirked. “Crowley can be coy when he wants to be, he just didn’t feel like it back then, I guess,” 

“Oh, believe me, I know he can be coy and hidden. He kept my nephew here in England without any of my family finding out except me, he lived his life undercover with the police for the last ten years. I have no doubt he can be extremely covert when he wants to be,” Delilah replied, flashed a smile. 

Ezra supposed she had a point. Crowley had indeed shown himself to be very, very secretive when he needed to be. He had confessed the truth on many occasions just for Ezra to discover that Crowley hadn’t told the truth at all in the end. 

Each time, Ezra had wholeheartedly believed that Crowley had completely fessed up. Crowley was just that convincing. 

“I’m scared they’re right, Delilah,” Ezra admitted, looking down at his hands, unable to have his eyes on Crowley’s still form when he admitted his doubts. “I’m scared that Crowley  _ is _ going to die and there’s nothing I can do about it. I’m scared we’re going to lose our lives together right as they’re beginning.”

“He’s stronger than you think, Ezra,” Delilah said gently.

“I know he is,” Ezra agreed. He bit into his lip and sharp pain blossomed, not as hot and sharp as that inside. “It’s just that- I don’t know if he’s strong  _ enough.  _ This is so much, Delilah, even for him,” he murmured. 

Delilah had no argument to that, but she stayed in the room with Ezra for the next several hours, until Warlock came back into the room. 

“Hello, Ezra,” the boy said, almost a little sullen. 

“Hello, Warlock. Have you been back to school yet?” Ezra asked. 

“We haven’t decided if we’re staying this year in England or going back to America, at the moment I’ve got two tutors for Warlock-”

“And they’re both  _ boring,” _ Warlock added, huffed. “Mister Harrison is  _ clearly _ bored with what he’s saying, and Mister Cortese  _ thinks _ he’s way more interesting than he is.” 

Delilah laughed. “Yes, I know you object to them, Warlock, but you still haven’t given me your answer one whether you want to go to America or stay here, so I can’t sign you up for school yet.”

Warlock ignored her, staring over at Crowley, lying on the bed. “Is he- is he dead?” He asked, voice barely more than a croak. “I- I didn’t- I-”

“No Warlock,” Ezra said gently, pressing a hand against Warlock’s shoulder. “He’s not dead, he’s just in rough state at the moment,” he explained. 

Warlock nodded. “Can we go home?” He asked Delilah, biting at his lip. “I- I don’t want to stay here any longer…”

Ezra couldn’t blame him for that. “It’s alright, Delilah, I’ll be alright, you should take him home.” 

“Can I do you a favour and bring Adam with me? He’d probably like to get out of the hospital, and you can take some time for yourself without worrying about him too.”

Ezra considered that for a moment. “If you wouldn’t mind, and he wants to,” he agreed. 

“It’s my pleasure,” Delilah promised, taking out a notepad and a pen and scribbling something down. “Here’s my number, please call me if anything changes, or if you want me to bring Adam back.” 

"Thank you, Delilah," Ezra said quietly, and the woman escorted Warlock out of the room. 

Not for the first time that week, Ezra fell asleep in Crowley's room, sitting in the uncomfortable visitors chair.

He had a crick in his neck when he awoke, and Crowley still hadn’t stirred by that point. His breathing was mercifully as steady as ever, although the doctors fully expected to have to intubate him if this went on much longer, he had already been fitted with a plastic oxygen mask a few days prior. 

Things just got worse and worse, and Ezra was terrified. He was terrified every time a doctor walked in that they were going to tell him that it was just too late, or that Crowley was going to stop breathing, that alarms would start going off as his heart stopped again and it was just too unfair, it was just too much for Ezra to bear. 

Ezra hadn’t known for long that he could count on a happy, coupled future, he had always seen himself ending up alone and he had been okay with that, but now that children and a husband were on the table, how could he just give in and accept that it was being taken  _ away _ from him? Not that it had never been an option, that it  _ had _ been an option and now someone had tried to  _ take _ it away. 

He knew the one who had shot Crowley was dead. Had been shot down on the scene after firing the gun a second time, carried off in a body bag, not an ambulance. Ezra wasn’t a vengeful man but at  _ first _ , it had made him feel a little better. He had known that the person who had done this to his fiance hadn’t lived to tell the tale of it, but it meant  _ nothing _ now. Who cared if the shooter was dead if it was seeming likely that Crowley would be, too, in a matter of time. 

Where was the justice in a man who had worked so hard to make up for his troubled youth dying while trying to do the right thing? Where was anything right in the world if that happened? If Crowley spent a decade trying to make up for what he’d done as a young man with no alternatives just to  _ die _ doing so? 

It wasn’t fair. It just wasn’t fair and Ezra didn’t have to be expected to accept it. 

But there was nothing else for him to do. He didn’t have a choice but to accept it, if Crowley died then there was nothing he could do about it. 

He just had to pray that Crowley wouldn’t die. It was his only remaining option.

He didn’t have to like it. He could hate it as much as he wanted to, it didn’t change anything for him or for Crowley. 

There was an angel calling him, and he wasn’t really sure that he wanted to follow. 

After all, he didn’t really believe in angels in the first place. Besides, angels weren’t  _ pretty, _ not the way the angel calling him was pretty. His mother and father had made sure that he knew from a young age that angels were  _ terrifying, _ not cherub-faced with a glowing halo around their head and a brilliant, gentle smile on their face. 

Angels had reason to say “do not be afraid,” and this one didn’t. 

Nor did this one speak anything but his name. The angel called him again and again and he didn’t want to follow. 

You weren’t supposed to follow soft faces and gentle voices into the light, were you? Not if you had something to go back to, and he knew he did. No matter how much he wanted to stretch his hand out and follow the angel calling him, he knew he wasn’t supposed to. 

He had somewhere he was meant to go, somewhere he was supposed to return to and he didn’t think he could if he followed the angel. 

Besides, walking towards the angel  _ hurt. _ Where he stood he was comfortably numb, didn’t feel anything. The closer he got to where the angel wanted him to go, the more he hurt. 

That confused him. Why would an angel want him to hurt? 

Was he being led to Hell? Was that why every step towards the angel he wanted to follow hurt more than the last? Was the angel the last pleasant face he would see after he hedged his bets wrong throughout his life?

Maybe it had nothing to do with hedging bets. Maybe he really  _ did _ belong in Hell. Maybe it was just a matter of time before his feet followed the angel wherever they were leading and he found out one way or another. 

But for now, he was peaceful where he stood. He didn’t hurt, he just felt numb. He couldn’t think of why he belonged to the devil, he could barely even recall his own name in between the times the angel called it. 

He couldn’t remember his wrongs, couldn’t remember his rights. He was floating, light as a feather, barely tethered to the ground. 

And he liked it that way. He liked that he couldn’t feel anything. No guilt, no shame, no pain, just nothing. He didn’t feel anything and he was happy with that. He thought he could continue to exist like this forever, if it weren’t for the angel continuing to call him. 

“I can’t go with you,” he said, his voice seemed echoey and far away. “I have to stay here. I’m waiting for someone.” 

He didn’t know how he knew he was waiting for someone, he hadn’t just seconds earlier, but it was perfectly clear to him now that he was. He was waiting for someone and he couldn’t go with the angel. He would disappoint the one he was waiting for. 

The angel smiled sadly, but didn’t change what they were saying, just beckoned for him to come towards them. 

He wanted to, too. Who was he waiting for, anyways? 

A man with sweet, cherub features and almost-white blond hair, with green eyes and a gentle smile. 

He looked back at the angel. 

The angel looked remarkably like that description. 

He squinted, shaded his eyes from the warm light all around. All of the sudden he realized the light was giving him a headache. 

Contemplated the angel for a moment longer. “Ezra?” 

“I’ve been calling you for ages, darling. Are you ready to come with me?” 

He looked around the softly glowing landscape. 

Was he ready to go? Did he know for sure this wasn’t a trick? Could he really go with the angel? Was it safe? 

Was it any safer to stay here?

He didn’t have any proof that it was. He took a step towards the angel, winced in pain. 

It would get worse the closer he got, he knew that. 

But if the angel was  _ Ezra, _ didn’t he have to go? He didn’t have a choice, even if it hurt. He had to go to his angel, so he kept walking, even as the pain grew in his chest and stomach, his skin grew heated and feverish and he started to get dizzy. 

“That’s it, my dear,” the angel said, holding a hand out. “Come back with me, my love, you’ve been gone for long enough, I think. I’ve missed you.”

He’d missed the angel, too. It took all his effort to take the last step towards him, Ezra, the angel, but he managed it nonetheless, stumbling a little.

Ezra didn’t reach out to help. He knew the angel couldn’t. He had to do this on his own.

He took a deep breath. “This had better not bite me in the ass,” he muttered.

Ezra didn’t say anything. 

Crowley stared into the bright green eyes he trusted with everything he had, everything he was, and took Ezra’s hand. 

“Crowley? Crowley, are you awake? I saw you move, please, darling, be awake!” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I couldn't resist a bit of angelic symbolism, you'll have to forgive me. I mean, this is a human au about an angel and a demon, I don't think it's unfair ;)


	38. Chapter 38

“Crowley? Crowley, are you awake? I saw you move, please, darling, be awake!” 

Ezra knew he was making a mountain out of a molehill. He had seen Crowley twitch, and the doctors had told him that coma patients could move a little and it wasn’t unusual. It probably didn’t mean anything, but it didn’t mean Ezra wasn’t leaned over his fiance, searching desperately for a sign of life. 

“Crowley? Crowley, my love, squeeze my hand if you can hear me, darling,” Ezra instructed, slipping his hand into Crowley’s.

There was no reaction for almost long enough that Ezra decided he was being foolish. The doctors had told him that Crowley probably wasn’t going to wake up. 

Then there was the faintest amount of pressure on Ezra’s fingers, nearly too faint to be detected but too deliberate to be fluke. 

“Crowley!” 

There was no way he was mistaken, Crowley was  _ awake.  _ Maybe he had yet to open his eyes, but he was awake enough to respond to what Ezra said. That was more than Ezra had expected. 

“Oh, my love, thank you…” Ezra whispered, pressing a kiss to Crowley’s cheek. “Thank you for coming back to me, thank you…”

Crowley wasn’t gone, he was awake and he would start to get better any day now. Things were going to be okay, Ezra could finally take the thousand-pound weight off his chest. 

Crowley woke up gradually. Ezra could live with that. At some points, his golden eyes would open just a smidge, and while Ezra didn’t know if Crowley could actually see him, he would shift to sit in Crowley’s line of sight and smile reassuringly. At one point, Crowley may have tried to smile back, it was difficult to tell. His movements were small and jerky and difficult to recognize.

Ezra didn’t mind. While Crowley’s eyes were open, Ezra sat beside him and spoke gently to him, telling him the going-ons he had missed, plans for their wedding that Ezra hadn’t realized he had made in his head until they came spilling out. They weren’t finalized, just musings he shared with Crowley while his fiance’s eyes were just barely open. Neither of them would remember what he said, and it didn’t matter. 

Crowley didn’t speak on the first day of his being awake, but by the time Ezra woke up on the uncomfortable chair, there was the sound of a voice he hadn’t thought he would hear again. 

“Have you been sleeping there this whole time?” 

It was raspy, weak and breathy, but Ezra sat bolt upright at the sound of it anyways. “Crowley!” 

“Knew you wouldn’t lead me astray, angel. Had my doubts for a while, but I c’n trust you,” Crowley said, which didn’t make any sense to Ezra but he was just grateful to hear Crowley speak after five days of silence. He would listen to whatever muddled words that Crowley managed to speak.

And Crowley  _ was _ delusional and out of it. At one point he asked Ezra who he was, which was concerning and upsetting, although the doctor said if Crowley had been coherent on  _ who _ Ezra was before this, then amnesia was unlikely. 

It was even more likely that was the case when the next time he awoke Crowley was absolutely convinced they lived in America, and the next time that he was some sort of doctor who needed to get back to a patient in surgery, which was absolutely ridiculous and would be funny if Ezra weren’t so deeply worried for Crowley. 

Ezra's fears had been assuaged immediately after Crowley woke up. He couldn't pretend he was still as terrified as he had been, now that his fiance was talking to him again, even if Crowley didn't often know what was actually going on from what he perceived was going on.

But that didn't mean he wasn't still afraid. There were countless things that could have gone wrong during the five days that Crowley had been in a coma. Not to mention, it was the second one he had been and in the last two weeks. The odds weren't good for a full recovery from something like that. There was a reason why the doctors had wanted to discuss End-of-Life plans, and it wasn't precautionary.

He knew there were still dangers. Even before the infection had broken out, he'd been informed of likely complications from asplenia. As much as when they had been removing it, the doctors have been full of assurances that people could live without a spleen with minor complications at best, after it was removed, the tune changed a little bit. It was now, now that there was nothing else to be done, it was already gone, that they told Ezra about the possible complications stemming from any exposure to infection or illness.

In short, Crowley was immunocompromised. The loss of his spleen would affect his immune system considerably, and there were a lot of precautions that were going to have to be taken to keep him safe.

It was nothing Ezra was unprepared to deal with, extra screening for illnesses, isolation in risky situations, Crowley needing a few more immunizations than anybody else in the house. it was just a lot on top of everything else that he had learned in the past few weeks.

And an almost comical if it weren't tragic, twist of events, Crawley would likely not be repaying the favor Ezra had done of looking after him when he had drunk himself sick. Not unless Ezra also caught a case of the 26 ounce flu. An actual illness would likely lead to Crowley needing to avoid him.

it was going to be a lot of adjusting, but it was nothing Ezra wasn't prepared to do. As long as Crowley left this hospital, he could handle anything. All that was important was that Crowley lived. And despite the precarious situation he had been in for so long, that was looking more likely by the hour. The infection wasn't gone, but it was waning, the fever slowly dropping after spending so long burning up inside.

Crowley would, sooner or later, be allowed to leave the hospital. The idea grew more and more concrete the more Crowley opened his eyes and mumbled a few words to Ezra throughout the day. 

He had called Delilah with the good news, but when she had asked if he wanted her to bring Adam back to the hospital, he had declined. 

Delilah seemed to understand. Ezra needed a bit of time with Crowley to himself, before he was ready for life to go back to normal. He needed some time to just remind himself that Crowley was alive and getting better. 

Once he’d had a coherent conversation with Crowley, then he would be ready for Adam to come back, and to have to deal with the looming consequences to the last two weeks.

He needed to talk to Crowley, first. Needed to put his mind completely at ease, assure himself that everything was going to be alright. Once he had really talked with Crowley then everything would get better. 

He didn't know how long that would be, though. Crowley was still really out of it with no sign as to when he was going to be coherent again. 

Ezra wasn't the only one who  _ wanted  _ to speak to him, either. The police and now a public defendant were both waiting to have a conversation with his fiance. 

Ezra had tried to speak with the attorney, find out what the best course of action was now, but they had refused to discuss Crowley's case with him.

Attorney-client privilege. They apparently included hiding anything the lawyer knew or had decided from even their client’s fiance. 

Any other day, Ezra might have been glad that someone was protecting Crowley’s privacy. Right now, it only irked him. 

He wanted to know what he should be bracing himself for, and he didn’t think that was unreasonable. Not now that he no longer had to plan to pick out a suit for Crowley’s funeral when he  _ should _ have been picking one for their wedding. 

He wanted to know what he and Crowley were in for. What the police wanted from Crowley, which seemed to be information more than anything else, how his lawyer planned on facing Crowley’s involvement with Warlock’s kidnapping and still not sending him to jail. 

Or if a jail sentence was in order and Ezra needed to start planning his shop hours around the visitation hours of local prisons. He would live with whatever happened, but he wanted to count on the future now, and plan for it. He’d almost had his future with Crowley ripped away from him, and now he wanted to plan for it, now that he was going to get it. 

He had a future now, and he planned on meeting it head on. 

No one else in the bloody hospital, however, planned on giving Ezra the variables he  _ needed _ to make those plans, so it was going to have to be a rough draft more than a plan. 

He would live with that. Crowley was alright, he could live with anything.

Everything was fuzzy, and Crowley didn’t like it. He couldn’t really focus on anything, his head swam and he couldn’t really see, even when he was certain that he had opened his eyes. 

He knew, however, that Ezra was there. He could hear his fiance talking to him, and tried to respond, but he didn’t really know how to do that. Every time he opened his mouth, nothing seemed to come out right. He couldn’t figure out  _ why _ nothing came out right, but it didn’t, and he couldn’t seem to fix it. 

This went on for days, it seemed. Or hours. It could have been a week, it could have been three hours, Crowley kept drifting in and out of focus and he couldn’t pay attention to the date nor time. 

It was incredibly frustrating, until all of the sudden, it wasn’t. The next time he tried to speak, it actually came out right. “Angel?” 

He didn’t like the sound of his own voice. It sounded tinny and raspy and fake, but it got Ezra's attention nonetheless. 

"I'm right here, my love," Ezra replied, and he squeezed Crowley’s hand. “How are you feeling, Crowley?”

Crowley thought about lying, but he had promised Ezra that he would stop lying and he had meant it. “Like garbage,” he admitted, frowning. “What happened?” 

“The hospital left a sponge in your chest. They got it out but it caused an infection. I’ve already begun the process of suing them for malpractice, you almost died,” Ezra said honestly, “and recovery is going to be harder now because of their mistake.”

“You gettin’ vengeful for me, angel?” Crowley asked, a bemused smile on his face. 

“Maybe a little, but to be fair, they have earned it. They almost killed you. They were trying to convince me to sign a DNR for you just a few days ago!”

“You should have let them, I have a good life insurance policy and I named you as the benefactor, I’m worth much more dead than alive,” Crowley replied, tried to laugh but it didn’t come out properly. 

“Don’t even joke about that, Crowley, I’ve spent the last five days worrying that you were going to die on me. I was looking forward to planning our wedding, not your funeral,” Ezra scolded. 

“Oh, there’s already plans for my funeral made. I made a will back when I first took Warlock in. Had to make sure he would be protected if something happened to me,” Crowley replied, “I should add you into the will, one of these days, but rest assured there’s not a lot of planning to be done when I do kick it.”

“Stop talking about dying, Crowley, I’m still getting used to the idea that you’re not about to die,” Ezra told him, kissed his forehead. Crowley took a deep breath in, Ezra smelled of sweat and greasy hair and hospital food, but underneath there was still the smell of old books and cocoa and vanilla. Crowley had missed that smell.

It was then, staring up at Ezra, that Crowley realized that Ezra had a healing gash on his forehead. “Shit. They found you. Shit, I  _ told _ Newt there were dirty cops-”

“It’s alright, he arrived just in time. I got the only injury, they’re both in custody. The only downfall is that both of our flats are classified as off-limits by the police. Yours they were canvassing for evidence for your case, although your lawyer stepped in and made sure everything was done by the book, mine they needed evidence against the officers who attacked me. I don’t think they’ve opened either of them back up, but that’s okay. You’re going to need to be in the hospital for a while longer, and I have places I can stay. How did you manage to foil a bank robbery in progress and be the only innocent injured?”

“I’m not an innocent, Ezra, I count as a participant. And it was easy, really, I stuck a cellphone in my binder and they sent me to go distract the bank manager. Here I thought I was going to have to hide away somewhere to make the call!” Crowley replied. 

“Did it ever occur to you that physical activity which you  _ shouldn’t _ wear your binder for might include robbing a bank, Crowley?”

“Where else was I supposed to hide a cellphone?”

“I’m fairly sure that a sports bra would have worked just as well, my love, and that wouldn’t have been putting your health at risk.”

“I think worse than my binder put my health at risk, Ezra, I got shot twice,” Crowley said. 

“I suppose you have a point there. Apparently we have a bit of adjusting to do at home these days. You have a health condition now, my love,” Ezra said, a teasing smile on his face. 

“Just don’t cough in my mouth and I’ll be fine,” Crowley replied, which didn’t appear to reassure Ezra. He didn’t doubt his fiance knew all the ins and outs of his new condition, not just a joking summary, and was going to be fretting over it for the next while. 

Crowley had other things to fret about. “How is Adam?” He asked, not mentioning Warlock but clearly asking about him, too. 

“Both boys are with Delilah right now, she’s talking to Warlock about whether he wants to stay in England or move to America with her. He’s been to see you once or twice, you were still out. He did seem concerned about you-”

“He shouldn’t be. He was right not to be. What have I ever done for him but steal him from his family?”

Ezra sighed. “You’re his  _ father, _ Crowley, legitimately or not. He knows that, so do you and so does Delilah. Provided he agrees, she doesn’t intend to fully remove you from his life. She  _ wants _ him to visit, to keep some of what his normal life was. Maybe you won’t be his father anymore, but you certainly could be his slightly strange uncle.” 

Crowley tried again to laugh, and was met with approximately the same level of success as last time. “I can’t imagine him wanting to spend time with me again. Not after finding out I lied to him for the last ten years,” he remarked. 

“One day he’s going to look back and remember that lie or no lie, those were  _ good _ years. And then he’ll be ready to see you again. Delilah is a very reasonable woman, I’m sure she’ll have him seeing the light soon enough.” 

Crowley did hope that was true. 

There was a knock at the door. “Hello, Mister Crowley, Mister Fell. My name is Mx. Reynolds, I’ve been appointed as the lawyer overseeing your defense, Mister Crowley. The police are rather insistent on speaking with Mister Crowley now that he’s awake, and I did hope I would have a chance to discuss the case with him before they got to him. Course, he doesn’t have to talk to them with an attorney present, but Mister Fell, I know you’ve been wanting to know what the next steps are. With Mister Crowley’s permission, I’m ready to discuss our options with the both of you.” 

The person at the door was smartly dressed, with glasses and a plaid suit. Crowley knew they were a lawyer before they went off in lawyer-speak. “Our options?” 

“There are a couple of options, but I think I’ve found one that will keep all parties happy.” 

“How long?” Crowley asked, needing to get it over with. 

“How long for what?” 

“How long is the sentence? The plea deal they’ve offered for cooperation.” 

The lawyer smiled. “If they agree, and I believe I have a reasonable proposal, there won’t be any jail time at all, Mister Crowley. You were fully cooperative with the police through the whole matter, and I do believe that even the prosecution will be able to agree that such behaviour deserves a reward, not a punishment.”

“I also helped kidnap the son of the American Ambassador, and I’m an accessory to the murder of him and his wife,” Crowley said flatly.

“That does complicate matters considerably, but I still do believe I’ve found a reasonable compromise,” the lawyer promised, “might I come in?” 

Crowley nodded them in, Ezra pulled up a chair for them. 

Mx. Reynolds took a seat. “You see, were this not such a political case it would be rather easy for me to negotiate a complete dismissal of the charges against you, Mister Crowley,” they explained, “but given the politics and profile of this case, I don’t think that suggesting such a deal in your defense will work in our favour. We could try, if you insisted, but I believe that asking for absolution may simply urge the prosecution to pursue a heftier sentence than they already have in mind.”

“So what are you suggesting?”

“I’m going to propose a deal of House Arrest. Eighteen months, to be exact, although the prosecution may wish to increase that number. It keeps you monitored and punished to a certain degree, but it won’t disrupt your life like a prison sentence. The deal will, of course, be based on your willingness to assist in the conviction of your fellow defendants. Failure to do so will revoke the deal and all the prosecution to press further charges against you.” 

Ezra glanced at Crowley. “House arrest is far better than either of us thought it would be,” he said, and he had a point. 

“If the deal is accepted, you won’t even have to go to trial. It involves a guilty plea, of course, or no contest, although guilty tends to appease more people, but there will be no trial, no calling of witnesses for or against you, and no risk of further charges.” 

Crowley hardly had to think. “That’s a deal I’d accept if it were offered,” he agreed. 

“Excellent. I’ll put the balls in motion. And Mister Crowley?”

“Yes?”

“Don’t say anything to the police. Don’t confess for them, don’t give the prosecution anything to use or they’ll reject the deal. Do you want me here when you speak to the detective?”

Crowley nodded. 

“Excellent. I’ll be back when the police are.” 


	39. Chapter 39

Crowley was antsy to go home, even though everyone involved had made it very clear that  _ wasn’t _ an option.

Ezra was getting sick of being the bad guy who had to do the reminding, true, but not sick enough to give up. Now that Crowley was awake and sitting up, the hospital had decided they wanted to keep for at least another week. 

A normal splenectomy would have allowed him to go home by now, but there was the infection to contend with, too. With the malpractice suit already on its way, the staff weren’t taking any chances and Ezra was glad to see that.

It didn’t please him enough to make him consider dropping the lawsuit, Crowley’s recovery had been impacted and someone was going to answer for that, but he was glad, now.

"Crowley if you try to take three bites of this delicious- what is this?" Ezra looked down at the tray of food in Crowley’s lap.   
"Goop." 

Ezra wasn’t entirely sure  _ goop _ was the right word for it, but it wasn’t far off. He could see little bits of peas, carrots, and noodles in it, a thick gray sauce that seemed partially congealed now that it was cooling. 

He thought he saw bits of canned tuna in it, too. Ezra had never been able to get behind canned tuna. 

But he pretended he didn’t agree with Crowley and continued. "Of this delicious hospital  _ goop _ and throw the rest away again I'll convince the doctors to keep you for another week.”

The face Crowley pulled was absolutely  _ awful. _ “I’m not eating this,” he replied, “not even two or three bites. It looks like it might ooze off my plate at any moment. Surely  _ you _ can’t be in support of whatever this is masquerading as food. Not my foodie fiance.”

“Eat your dinner, Crowley.” 

Crowley shook his head. Ezra sighed. “Eat it, Crowley.”

Crowley gave him a coy smile. “I’ll eat as much of it as you do. I can’t imagine they  _ don’t  _ have leftovers of whatever the hell this is, no one could  _ possibly _ want a second helping. Besides, they probably just endlessly reserve the same food everyone refuses.”

Ezra contemplated Crowley’s plate of limp salad, steamed brussel sprouts and whatever atrocity the kitchen had made as an entree, and decided he didn’t really have a choice. 

He stepped into the hall and up to the serving cart. “Would it be possible for me to get some of- I’m sorry, what are you serving today?”

“Tuna noodle casserole,” the lady pushing the serving cart replied. 

“Would it be possible for me to get some as well? It smells scrumptious and I think eating with my fiance will do us both good,” Ezra said, fully aware that they both knew he was lying about the smell.

The lady seemed stunned that he wanted some, and immediately handed him a tray. “There you are, sir, enjoy!” 

Ezra turned away before wrinkling up his nose and walking back to Crowley’s room with the tray. 

“Ezra, I’m calling your bluff, dear. There’s no way you’re  _ actually _ going to eat that. You have too much respect for your body to put  _ that _ into it,” Crowley told him, raising an eyebrow. 

In response, Ezra sat back down, took a  _ huge _ scoop of the mushy, foul-smelling casserole and stuck it in his mouth, chewed rhythmically before swallowing it down. “Delicious.”

“You’re full of shit,” Crowley said, but did take an equally-sized bite, making a dramatic gagging face after he swallowed. “There, now will you stop being stubborn? There’s a reason I’m not eating it!”

Ezra snorted. “You’ve clearly forgotten who you’re dealing with, darling,” he replied as he took another revolting bite. And then two more while Crowley just stared at him.

“I’m going to have to eat this all before you leave me alone about it and admit it’s disgusting, aren’t I?” Crowley gripped, and Ezra just took another bite of the casserole. 

“That’s four you owe me, dearest. Eat up,” he instructed. 

Crowley irritably stabbed a piece of lettuce. 

“That’s cheating, darling, and I will simply ensure I too, eat all the salad and brussel sprouts if that’s how you’re going to behave. At the moment, I’ll be satisfied if you just eat the casserole.” 

Crowley huffed, knocked the lettuce off his fork and took a few reluctant bites of the casserole itself. “You’re finding me a red lolly after this, because I’m not taking just  _ jello _ as a reward for eating this. Not to mention-” Crowley held the small cup of jello up to his nose. “-it’s strawberry banana.” 

“Remind me again why you won’t eat strawberry banana jello but you want me to find you a strawberry lolly, Crowley?”

“Because strawberry is a fine flavour, strawberry-banana is an affront against basic decency. Much like this casserole. Are we done yet?”

“The more you harass me, the more determined I am to eat the whole thing, Crowley, just to make you do the same. You did say that you would eat as much as I did,” Ezra warned, taking another bite. 

“And, much like usual, you’re making me eat my words. Not just my words, this disgusting casserole, too. Seriously, what  _ is _ it supposed to be, Ezra?” Crowley asked, poking it with his fork before sticking another bite in his mouth. 

“Apparently it’s a tuna noodle casserole, dear boy, and I will fully admit that it’s awful. However, maybe if you had eaten the  _ last  _ few considerably better meals that you’d been offered I wouldn’t be forcing you to eat this one. Just finish it and we can both be rid of this.” 

“Oh, Hell no, Ezra. I’m only eating as much as you do, and that’s final,” Crowley replied, catching up to Ezra’s count and setting down his fork. “You went and got yourself a plate to win this argument, now finish your casserole if you want me to finish mine.” 

Crowley was obviously displeased when Ezra did just that, shoving the last few bites into his mouth, barely tasting them. However, he didn’t protest, he finished his own plate and set the tray to the side. “If you try to make me eat the brussel sprouts too I’m going to revoke my proposal,” he complained. 

“Even I wouldn’t do that, love. Brussel sprouts are no good boiled,” Ezra conceded, “now let’s see if I can find you that lolly. You’ve certainly earned it, keep up like this and you’ll be home in no time, love.” 

Crowley had fishy breath when Ezra leaned in to kiss him, and he doubted that his own was much better. Neither of them said anything about it, though. “And Delilah told me she thinks Warlock is going to drop by either today or tomorrow, depending on how his homework goes. Apparently he wants to talk to you again, and this time she’s made him promise to be civil.” 

“Why bother? Warlock had a point, Ezra,” Crowley replied. “His parents died, I lived. We got shot by the same group of people.”

“You’re entirely correct, Crowley, but he wished you dead and then you almost did die. Let’s just stick with good omens these days until you’re home from the hospital, alright?” Ezra asked, raising an eyebrow. 

“Alright, alright. But Delilah doesn’t need to bully Warlock into being civil. I  _ get _ that he’s angry.” 

Ezra nodded and stepped into the hall and up to the reception desk. “Can we just make this easy?” He asked, leaning slightly on the counter. 

“What do you need, Mister Fell?” The man behind the desk asked. 

“I’m sure you saw what was served for dinner today,” Ezra replied, biting his lip. 

“Not one of our kitchen’s finest, I’ll admit,” the man agreed, “what’s the point?”

“Look, I know there’s ice lollies in here somewhere, my fiance can’t stand jello most of the time, nevermind strawberry-banana jello, would you just help me track down a strawberry lolly? I promised I’d find him one if he actually ate dinner today, you know how finicky he is.” 

The man did indeed know that. He sighed. “Are you  _ sure _ you can’t just get him to eat the jello? The patients here are on pretty firm diets.” 

“I know that, but my fiance had a splenectomy due to a gunshot wound, not underlying health conditions that need a monitored diet. There’s no reason for his meals to be controlled, and it’s hard enough getting him to eat when you  _ don’t _ serve something as horrendous as was plated today. Don’t argue with me, I ate it too, just to convince him to eat his own.”

The man contemplated him. “You’re going to make a right nuisance of yourself until I go find a strawberry lolly, aren’t you, Mister Fell?” He asked, with a bit of a sigh. 

Ezra frowned. “Well, if you really can’t, I don’t want to over complicate your day, but I would appreciate it, if it’s within your powers to do so,” he replied. 

The man let out another sigh. “Fine, I’ll be right back, Mister Fell.”

Things were looking up, just a little, when Ezra stepped back into the room with a bright red ice lolly for Crowley, and a purple one for himself. Crowley gave him a smile. 

“Thank you, angel.”

“They  _ really _ wanted you to eat your damn jello and be quiet, Crowley, let me tell you.” 

“So much that you managed to get your own ice lolly out of it,” Crowley replied, grinning. Ezra just handed him the frozen treat. 

“You just hush and eat your dessert, and be grateful I’m still in a good enough mood to go and fetch it for you, darling.” 

“I would go myself, but no one will let me leave this bed, never mind the room,” Crowley replied, winking as he stuck the lolly much further down his throat than was necessary and earning himself a playful smack from Ezra. 

“And we both remember you almost passing out when you tried to stand last time. There’s good reason for you to stay in here, whether you like it or not.” 

“I didn’t almost pass out.” 

“You collapsed, and when I stood too close to the bedside to make sure you were okay, you threw up on my shoes, Crowley,” Ezra replied, frowning and licking at his grape lolly. “Then the doctors had to fret over you for ages. Hence, you almost passed out, stop being stubborn and just admit it.” 

Crowley didn’t continue to argue, just smiled at Ezra while sucking on the ice lolly. “I can’t wait to be home with you,” he decided, effectively cutting off Ezra’s scolding. “Home with you and Adam, I could move into the bookshop, or you could move into my flat, whichever suited-”

“I don’t have the money to keep the bookshop right now, Crowley,” Ezra admitted. 

Crowley cocked an eyebrow. “We’re getting married, you’re not allowed to play shy with my finances anymore. If you like the bookshop and want to keep it, I’ll sell the flat, I’ve never been partial to it, and I guarantee that between what I have socked away and what your lawsuit gives you, you’ll keep the bookshop. I can move my flower shop in with you and pay the bills, since you never sell any of your books.”

“You would just… sell the flat. Uproot everything and move into my failing bookshop?” Ezra asked, eyes wide. 

“Ezra, I think it’s safe to say that with enough persuading, I would do  _ anything  _ if it made you happy. Anything you asked, anything you wanted. I will gladly sell the flat that I’ve been playing house in and trying to pretend I had a real future there and move in with you. I never expected to live as a florist for this long. I thought the case would go faster, thought I’d be pulled away, Warlock taken back to America and me sent out to wherever. Maybe even erased entirely, if the case went badly. I was ready to have to drop that life any day and become someone else. It was never permanent.” 

He sighed. “I’m ready for permanence now, angel. Anything, if it’s with you.” 

The statement was entirely genuine, something that surprised even Crowley himself. 

He’d never seen himself as the settling-down type. 

Now that he had met Ezra, he could see it. He could see a future, a wedding, a home to grow old in with the love of his life. He could see Ezra and himself aging together, raising Adam together and he clung to that. He  _ wanted _ that.

“And as for the bookshop, it’s more of a home than my flat has ever been. I’ll gladly spend the rest of our lives there.” 

Ezra beamed, leaned in and kissed Crowley with cold, purple-flavoured lips. “That might be one of the sweetest things you’ve ever said to me, love. Are you sure you’re not still high on pain meds like the other day?”

Crowley pretended to be offended. “Don’t need pain meds to be sweet with you, angel. You bring it out in everyone you meet. Now, you’d better eat your lolly, it’s about to flop onto the floor.” 

Ezra looked down and barely managed to get the lolly in his mouth before the top fell off. Now stuck with a mouthful of grape ice, Ezra’s eyes bugged out as he tried to swallow the cold treat. 

“Brain freeze!” He declared when he finally got it down, pressing a hand to his temple as though he could cure it. 

Crowley snorted and took a calculated bite of his own ice lolly, chewed and swallowed it with no difficulty. “I’ve been thinking about those wedding plans you mentioned.” 

“Crowley, I haven’t mentioned any wedding plans since you woke up.” 

Crowley frowned. “Sure you have. Said you would agree to lilies and marigolds, and you wanted an Italian cream cake, which I’ve never heard of but it’s your taste so I’m sure it will be wonderful, and you wanted to wear a white suit so I was thinking I could find a black one with maybe a half-skirt and-”

“Crowley, those are all things I told you while you were in a coma. Do you really remember them?” Ezra asked, frowning.

“I must, if I’m telling you about them. But I was thinking either a half-skirt or a cape, gotta be fancy- oh, maybe we could both have capes!”

Ezra laughed. “I’m sure we would both be rather fetching in capes, and if you want to wear a half-skirt then I’ll make sure we find you the nicest half-skirt out there-”

“No you won’t, skirt it close to a dress and everyone knows it’s bad luck for the groom to see the wedding dress before the wedding!” Crowley replied, with a grin. “We’ve had quite enough bad luck, don’t you think? We should avoid it everywhere we can.”

“Quite right, my dear. But I’m sure you’ll choose something absolutely lovely, and I can’t wait to marry you.”


	40. Chapter 40

“It’s good to see you, Warlock. Are you back in school?” Crowley asked, very, very carefully, as the boy took a seat in their room. 

“I am,” Warlock said, seemingly equally guarded. 

“And Delilah? You like her?” Crowley asked, a little more concerned than they should have been. “I did, when I got to meet her, but you were too young to remember…” 

Warlock smiled. “Delilah is very nice. Says she’s excited to catch me up on the holidays I’ve been missing, since you didn’t know anything about them.” 

Crowley smiled. “Yeah, I mentioned that when I met her, she said we should just celebrate whatever it was I actually understood. I don’t think she expected me to have you for so long. I didn’t.”

“Would you tell me the full story?” Warlock asked, biting his lip. “All of what happened?” 

Crowley sighed. “I can, if you want to hear it from me, but I’m afraid there’s not a lot that you don’t already know. It’s an awful story, I wish no one had to tell it, but I didn’t realize how bad things were in time to prevent it.” 

“So you really did just take me in because your friends wanted to kill me.” 

Crowley thought about how to answer that for a moment. “It is the reason I said I would, yes,” they agreed, “I didn’t know you, just knew I didn’t want to watch a child die for our mistakes, just to save our cover. It felt wrong, and so I said something. I told them I would take you and keep you hidden, never let anyone find out what happened to you, if they let me out. I wanted out, I know it’s hard to believe but I’ve never been more horrified in my life as I was when those two came out of the estate and told us what had happened. No one was supposed to get hurt, Warlock. It wasn’t alright even despite that, but no one was supposed to die. I didn’t know what to do after learning there had been casualties, but I knew that first things first, I had to make sure you made it out of that car alive.” 

“And that’s all it was. For ten years, just keeping me out of their hands.”

Crowley shook their head vehemently. “No,” they said, shifting a little where they sat. “Not since the very beginning. It’s true, I didn’t go out and adopt like I told you I did, and I didn’t know I wanted to be a parent before I had you, but I wouldn’t trade those ten years for anything. I wished that what I had told you was true more times than you can imagine. I wished I was never going to have to hurt you, that things were never going to fall apart. But it wasn’t meant to be. I had to do the right thing, and I couldn’t do that and plan to keep you forever. So a few days after I brought you home, I got in contact with the police and told them everything I knew. The officer, Newton Pulsifer, is the one that put me in contact with Delilah, worked out all the finer details of you staying here with me.”

“And what am I supposed to do now, Anthony? You should have told me!” Warlock said, looking up sharply with eyes full of hurt. 

Crowley knew he was right. They should have said something, warned Warlock  _ somehow _ that someday his life was going to come to a screeching halt. 

But they couldn’t have. “It was safer for you not to know. If the others ever thought you were a security risk, they’d have killed us both. I couldn’t risk telling you, I couldn’t risk telling  _ anyone  _ but who I had to. I didn’t even keep contact with Delilah or Newt, I know Newt kept an eye on you and reported back to your aunt but I had to act like we were living the whole truth. It was that or risk both of us dying, Warlock.” 

Warlock seemed conflicted on that. “I  _ liked _ our life, Anthony. I really did. But it was all a lie.” 

“I’m sorry, Warlock. You’re with your aunt now, she can tell you the truth. Is she… is she moving you to America? She did say there would be some relatives eager to meet-”

“We’re staying in England,” Warlock replied, cutting Crowley off. “She asked if I wanted to go to America, I didn’t want to leave all my friends behind.” 

Crowley nodded. “That’s good.” 

“And of course, given that Adam is one of my friends here, I’ll have to visit often,” Warlock mentioned. 

Crowley was certain they looked even more confused now than they had before. “I’m sure Ezra won’t mind if it’s Adam doing the visiting,” they said, biting at their lip.

“Oh, I’m sure he wouldn’t. But… Delilah says it might be nice to see  _ you _ , too.” 

A hush fell over the room. Crowley was the first to break the silence, after a few tense moments, clearing their throat. 

“You don’t have to, Warlock. I’ll talk to Delilah, there’s no reason for you to feel obligated to visit. I understand that you might want to put all of this behind you, move on with your  _ real _ family.” 

“You are still part of my real family, Crowley. You raised me,” Warlock said. He paused a moment, Crowley waited patiently for him to want to continue. “Look, even I’m not one hundred percent sure I agree, but it doesn’t sound like a  _ bad _ idea. I grew up with you, Crowley. It would be weird to leave and never see you again. I don’t think I would want to. You and Ezra and Adam have been my family for a lot longer than I’ve even  _ known _ about Aunt Delilah and Harriet and Thaddeus Dowling.”

Crowley felt tears welling in their eyes. They leaned forwards, ignoring the pain as their stitches pulled tight, stared at Warlock. “Don’t let anyone make this decision for you, Warlock. It’s up to you and only you, and you don’t have to consider anyone else when you make that decision. Not Delilah, not Ezra, certainly not me, alright? This is up to you, and I promise, I’ll understand if I don’t see you again. So will Ezra. I’ve put you through a lot, and I know that. I just… I… I wanted to do the right thing. I did.I did my best to do the right thing for you and everyone else, and that’s all I could do. It doesn’t need to be enough.” 

Warlock nodded. “I think I need to think about it for a while, Anthony,” he replied. 

“Of course. It’s good to see you, Warlock. I’m glad you’re getting on well with Delilah.”

Crowley wasn’t surprised when Warlock left the room with barely a goodbye uttered. They laid back down in their uncomfortable hospital cot, took the pressure off of their stitches. 

It was good to know the boy was alright, was adjusting to his new life, what should have been his life all along. That the toll wasn’t too great for Warlock to handle, that this too, was manageable. 

Crowley had turned Warlock’s world upside-down and shook it like a snowglobe, it was surprising he wasn’t  _ more _ upset. Crowley didn’t imagine they would be as calm as Warlock was at the moment, didn’t think they would be considering still  _ visiting _ the person who had  _ lied _ to them for ten years. 

What Crowley had done was atrocious, plain and simple. Crowley almost didn’t want the boy to forgive them. It wasn’t right for the sins to just be forgotten, cast aside and ignored. They were too grievous for that sort of dismissal. 

Crowley was too tired to worry much more about the whole situation. 

They allowed their eyes to close and block out the harsh light of the hospital, let the nagging migraine begin to fade just a little with the fluorescent lights, pulled the thin blanket over their head to make it just a little darker. 

They weren’t supposed to stand just yet, and couldn’t reach the light switch, which was total bullshit, but there was nothing they could do about it. 

They were allowed  _ out _ of bed, in a wheelchair, which someone else had to push around, but oftentimes they were too tired to bother wanting to get out of the cot. 

The doctors assured them that the exhaustion would pass. The infection had cleared out of their system, they could just about go home. They would need a lot of rest, but they could soon return to the bookshop, providing Ezra was prepared to help look after them. 

Ezra had assured them that part wasn’t an issue, providing Crowley wasn’t more demanding than Adam was. 

Crowley couldn’t wait to be home. 

“Crowley?” Ezra walked into the room, brimming with excitement, only to find that Crowley had their head hidden under the blanket and was clearly  _ trying _ to sleep, from the groan Ezra got as a response. 

Ezra would have apologized, but this time he was too excited. “Crowley, wake up, I have good news!”

“Ezra, why can’t your good news wait until I’ve had a nap?” Crowley complained, throwing back the blanket and lifting their head to shoot Ezra a look. 

“Darling, the hospital has agreed to discharge you after dinner, if you want. The doctor is coming to talk to you about it the moment she’s got a minute,” Ezra said, grinning and rushing over to Crowley’s side. “They’ve just been making sure I’m fully equipped to handle the remainder of your recovery!”

“And are you?” Crowley asked, shifting to sit up and raising one red eyebrow. 

“Well, they agreed you could come home, so I must be,” Ezra replied, rolling his eyes. “Crowley, you get to go  _ home. _ Sleep in your own bed.” 

Crowley smiled, but they still shook their head. “Not my own bed, my house is a crime scene of some sort.” 

“Crowley, you’ve been in the hospital for three weeks, they’ve cleared your flat. If you want to, you can go home and sleep in your own bed as long as we can get you up the stairs. If not, well then you’re welcome to sleep in mine.” 

“Sure, wait until I’ve been in a coma for a week and can’t do anything to ask me to sleep with you. You know I would have agreed earlier, don’t you?”

“Oh, you just had to go and make that sexual, didn’t you?” Ezra asked, frowning. 

“Always.” 

Ezra leaned down and kissed their forehead, sat down on the bed next to Crowley. “I can’t wait to have you home with me,” he admitted, holding on to both of Crowley’s hands. “It hasn’t felt like home without you nearby.” 

“The what, three times you’ve  _ been _ home? How  _ have _ you convinced the hospital to let you stay so often, visiting hours do not extend into the night.” 

“I keep pulling the ‘fiance of someone you almost killed with your incompetence’ card,” Ezra replied, “and reminding them that they kicked me out to let in your estranged parents while you were out the first time. Truth be told though, I think they just feel bad for me. You’re in pretty rough shape, or at least you  _ were.”  _

Crowley nodded. “Hopefully less now than I was, though. Otherwise they really shouldn’t be sending me home.” 

Ezra nodded. “How was your talk with Warlock?” He asked, suddenly remembering that the young man had been in to visit his former adoptive parent that afternoon. 

“He’s doing well, likes Delilah. It’s good news, I would hate for him to be miserable with her.” 

Ezra nodded. “What did he want to talk about, love? He meant to drop by to speak with me, too, but he was late for something else after he was done chatting with you and didn’t get a chance to tell me what happened.”

“He says he and Delilah are staying in England, at least for now,” Crowley replied, swallowing down a yawn. “She said that if he wanted to stay, then twelve years was too long to uproot him from his home at the same time as all of the rest of this.” 

Ezra nodded. “She’s good for him,” he decided. 

“He also said he’s considering the idea of visiting… us.” Crowley said, seeming much less sure about that news than the other parts. “Apparently Delilah thinks it will be good for him to keep contact, and he thinks she might be right. He’s not yet fully decided whether or not he wants to, but he’s thinking about it.”

“I think it would be wonderful to see him sometimes, if he agrees to it,” Ezra said with a smile. 

Crowley was about to say something when their doctor walked in with a tray. “I thought I would bring you this in person, I’m sure your fiance has told you of the good news,” she said, handed Crowley the tray and stood at the foot of the bed. 

Crowley contemplated the tray in front of them, wrinkled their nose and put it to the side. “Better news would be my getting discharged  _ before _ dinner,” they replied, frowning. 

“Well, if you don’t want to eat that, you could always get something on your way out, Crowley,” the doctor replied, smiling at them. “There’s a few things we should go over before we can let you leave in good conscience, and then you can be easily on your way. You’re going to need to remain off your feet for a while, still, Mister Fell assures me that his bookshop is all one story, so you wouldn’t have problems getting around with a wheelchair for a good while. After your coma and the surgery, you shouldn’t stress yourself too much.” 

Crowley nodded. “And if I stay off my feet, I can go home?”

“And stay on your medication until you’re out. You’re going to need to keep up-to-date on your vaccinations, and see your doctor regularly. Flu season and any time that anyone in your house or around you are sick is going to be a problem, going to need a lot of adjusting. But I suspect you can handle it, with a little perseverance. You’ll have some papers to sign for your discharge, but then I see no issue with you being on your way. I imagine you’ve been cooped up here for long enough and are ready to get out.” 

Crowley nodded. 

Crowley did seem to be happy once settled in the passenger’s seat of the Bentley, even though they were  _ not _ pleased about having to fit the wheelchair into the back. 

But they  _ were _ pleased to be out of the hospital, and even more pleased when Ezra agreed to stop  _ properly _ for dinner. Ezra hadn’t even known that Crowley had their wallet, but they insisted it was their treat for looking out for them while they were in the hospital. 

So Ezra agreed to wheel into an upscale French restaurant, let Crowley lead him in and take a seat. They  _ tried _ to order some champagne, too, but Ezra convinced them to have some temperance so soon after their surgery. 

But Esra did have to agree that the food was excellent, a far cry better than the casserole he’d forced himself to eat in the hospital, and it was an excellent way to celebrate Crowley coming home. 

And so was the quiet evening in with Crowley and Adam and a cheesy movie. 


	41. Chapter 41

“Look out, coming through!” Crowley shouted as they wheeled around the corner at a speed  _ much faster _ than intended on a hospital grade wheelchair. “Adam, stop your uncle, would you? He’s being ridiculous!”

“I am not, Crowley! Adam, stay right there you know Crowley won’t crash into you!” 

“How much control over this thing do you think I have, Ezra?” Crowley called back, but they clamped their hands tightly around both large wheels when Adam refused to move, skidding to a halt before they ran into the boy. 

“Crowley, it’s not ridiculous for me to make you take your meds, you  _ heard _ the doctor!”

“It  _ is _ ridiculous to force me to take your party cup of vitamins, too, though!” Crowley retorted as Ezra grabbed the handles on the back of the wheelchair. 

“God, I can’t wait until I can walk again,” Crowley grumbled as they were rolled back into the kitchen and dropped off in front of their half-empty glass of water and the four vitamins Ezra had laid out. 

Ezra’d also taken them, no one could say he wasn’t fair. Crowley just didn’t want to take theirs as well as the other medication the hospital still had them taking. 

Each time Ezra laid out their pills in front of them, they picked out the ones they knew the doctor had prescribed, swallowed them down without complaint, and then kicked up a fuss over the others. 

Ezra had to admit that maybe he should just drop it. The vitamins were good for the immune system, a realm in which Crowley was severely lacking, to their fiance’s understanding, but Ezra supposed he should be grateful Crowley was cooperating and taking the prescribed medication. 

He did smile, though, when Crowley scooped the four variously sized pills up off the table, threw them in their mouth, and swallowed them with the remainder of their water. “Satisfied?” They asked, fixing Ezra with a pointed look. 

“Very much so, dear. Thank you,” Ezra said, leaning in and giving them a kiss for their trouble. 

Crowley smirked. “Can we go get some stuff from my flat now, Ezra? I’m more than happy to continue living here, but it might be nice to have more than the two pairs of pants I had in my drawer in your armoire,” they said, “I know they  _ say _ you can wear those things four times, but you really  _ shouldn’t.” _

“Four times?” Ezra asked incredulously. 

“Inside, outside, front, back!” Crowley had to be  _ revelling _ in the disgusted look on Ezra’s face. They cackled and rolled away from Ezra before he could give them the smack they surely knew they deserved. 

“So can we go, or what? Breakfast is done, Adam can take care of himself for an hour or two, and I can finally change my underwear and make us both feel better about it.”

“And remind me why we’re partners?” Ezra asked, raising an eyebrow. “How did I end up with someone who apparently doesn’t do laundry?”

“Because we’re getting married next September?” Crowley replied, rolling back and forth in their chair. “And you absolutely  _ love _ me, so much that you’re looking after me while I’m stuck in this bloody wheelchair rolling around?”

“I always was a sucker,” Ezra said playfully, wheeled Crowley to the door and pulled on his shoes. “Getting you up the stairs to your room is going to be difficult.”

“What, for my big, strong former wrestler? I thought I was skin and bones and you could carry me anywhere!” Crowley protested, as Ezra wheeled them out the door and carefully down the front steps. 

“It doesn’t mean I  _ want _ to have to carry you and your wheelchair everywhere. When did the doctor say you could start walking around, again?” 

“In a few more days,” Crowley replied as Ezra walked them both across the street. 

The notice on the door had been peeled away, and Crowley’s key opened the door without a problem. 

“I can clean out the flower shop while you collect some clothes, if you want. I can’t imagine anything in there will still be good, you’ll want to get the rotten stuff out of there before the whole place has to be scrubbed top-to-bottom.” 

“It’s already going to need to be,” Crowley said dismissively, waving a hand around. “We can clean it up before we put the place on the market.” 

“You were  _ serious?” _ Ezra asked, eyes wide. 

“About selling this flat and moving in with you? Of course I was, angel. If you’ll have me, of course. I thought maybe we could combine the shops. Flowers and books, makes a good combination. All we need is a cafe and we have all anyone could ever want!” 

“As long as my books stay in good condition, Crowley. No watermarks or soil everywhere.” 

“Of course, angel,” Crowley agreed, “are you actually going to  _ sell _ books, or should we just make it a library?” They asked, a cheeky smile on their face as Ezra helped them up out of the wheelchair and lifted them off the ground to bring them upstairs. 

Crowley sat against the wall while Ezra brought the wheelchair up into the hall and placed them back in it. 

Almost immediately, they rolled over to their own bedroom to get some more clothes, but they did take a moment for a glance into Warlock’s room. 

Delilah hadn’t come by to get anything, the house had been sealed and she had simply decided to get Warlock some new clothes. 

It was completely undisturbed. Ezra knew that nothing had been moved at all since the day Crowley had left Warlock with him. 

Crowley’s gaze lingered on the empty, abandoned room, raking their eyes across the room before turning  _ sharply _ away and rolling into the master bedroom. 

They rolled up to their dresser, pulled out several new pairs of clothes for themself to wear, and turned to Ezra. “We need to bring Pretzel to the bookshop. I bullied Newt into making sure she got fed while the house was locked up, but I’d like to bring her with us.”

Ezra nodded. “How easily will she pack up?” He asked, looking back down the stairs to where the snake was kept. 

“The tank will take about an hour, she can wait in a plastic bin until it’s ready to move over. I don’t want her to stay here alone, Ezra. Delilah and Warlock came and got Baron, but Pretzel’s been here all by herself. And, I mean, she probably enjoyed that, but that’s not the point! I don’t plan on moving back in here and-”

“Crowley, you don’t need to justify yourself to me, if you want to bring Pretzel to the bookshop, we’ll bring Pretzel over to the bookshop. You’ll have to grab her, I’ve never picked her up before.” 

“I can do that,” Crowley confirmed, “I have a suitcase in my closet, I’ll just get these put in there and we can go pack her up. I’ve missed her, if I’m honest.” 

“That makes sense, we had Dog with Pepper’s family for the time you were in the hospital, it was good to have him back in the shop when we returned home. Let’s go get your python packed up for transport, I’m sure she’ll be glad to see you again, too,” Ezra said, pulling the suitcase out of the closet and helping Crowley pack his clothes into it. “Do you want any of your plants? They won’t do too well on their own, you know.” 

“I guess we should bring those two. I didn’t… I mean, when I first moved in here I didn’t expect to stay, but you can’t really tell that now, can you?” Crowley asked, looking around the room. 

“It looks like a home, Crowley, that’s not a bad thing. It will take a while to get it all packed up, you’ll have plenty of time to decide if you really want to sell it-”

“I do, angel. It might  _ look _ like a home, but it’s never really been a home. And now it’s just full of painful memories and regrets.” 

Their eyes darted back towards the doorway, towards Warlock’s room. 

“Not all bad, I should imagine.”

“It  _ hurts, _ Ezra. Just to look there, it  _ hurts. _ He was part of my life for  _ ten years _ and just a week ago I had to tell him not to come back if he wasn’t sure he wanted to no matter how badly I wanted to bring him home right that instant and pretend that none of this had ever happened.”

Ezra rested a hand on Crowley’s shoulder. “Things will look up, Crowley. They’ll get better. You did the right thing when you were talking to Warlock, and no matter what happens now, you have me and Adam and Dog and Pretzel. Things might not ever be the  _ same, _ but you know they’ll be good again, Crowley. Now, let’s get you down the stairs and pack up your pet python, and we can get back home and relax.” 

_ “Our _ pet python, Ezra. Everything is  _ ours _ , now.”

Ezra liked the sound of that. 

  
  


Packing Pretzel into a plastic tub and cleaning up her tank while stuck in a wheelchair was much harder than it should have been. Crowley spent most of the time just holding onto Pretzel while she nosed around their fingers, giving Ezra instructions for pulling out the substrate and various natural hide-outs and pack them into a box before Crowley also placed Pretzel in that box, and then it was placed on Crowley’s lap. 

“Right, you stay here, I’ll carry the tank across the street and come back for you and your suitcase. I’m not going to be able to push you across the street  _ and _ not break this tank. In fact, I’m going to go get Shadwell to give me a hand with it, it’s rather large and I would hate to drop it.”

Crowley nodded, and Ezra stepped out to fetch Shadwell, and then the two of them brought the tank across the road to the bookshop. 

Crowley didn’t know where Ezra and Shadwell put it, but his fiance came back across the street and brought Crowley with him. “Where do you want her to stay?” Ezra asked, carefully getting all of Crowley’s things  _ and _ Crowley up the front steps and back into the bookshop. “Right now the tank is on the kitchen table, but I don’t think that’s a good place for her to stay. You had a nice stand the tank was on, so Shadwell and I will go grab that, too, you decide where you want to put her.” 

Ezra left the house again, and Crowley carefully placed the suitcase and the plastic tub that had Pretzel and her deconstructed home, and their suitcase, on the ground, and wheeled around the house, not settling on a spot. 

When Ezra walked back in, with Shadwell and the stand in tow, Crowley was waiting at the door, a mischievous grin on their face. “We should put her in the shop,” they announced, “it’d keep away all your unwanted customers!” 

“You don’t want Pretzel in the house?” Ezra asked, frowning. 

“Yer gonna put a snake in yer  _ shop, _ Mista Crowley?” Shadwell asked, raising an eyebrow. 

“There’s more room for her in the shop, you and I will be working here anyways, Ezra, we’ll keep her back by a desk so people can’t harass her, and if we  _ want _ her in the house, I’ll just go get her. She’s not much of an explorer, but she doesn’t mind being handled. Besides, she’ll enjoy the privacy when the shop isn’t open.” 

Ezra nodded. “I suppose that’s sound reasoning, let’s get the stand set up somewhere, and then you can direct me on how to put Pretzel’s enclosure back together, now that I’ve taken it apart,” Ezra said. 

Crowley nodded, let Ezra and Shadwell deal with getting the stand and tank set up, those had both almost been too awkward for them when they  _ weren’t _ in a wheelchair and their fiance was much better equipped to manage it. They pulled Pretzel out of the box and gathered her in their arms, which the python didn’t seem to mind. 

Normally, after handling her for so long, Crowley would expect her to be nipping at their fingers. Pretzel was not a cuddly snake, she was aloof even by the standards for ball pythons, who were meant to be some of the friendliest pet snakes out there. 

But while her tongue flickered over Crowley’s nose and eyelashes and fingers, she didn’t bite, and soon enough the tank was well-enough reset that they carefully placed the snake back in the enclosure. “We’ll let her get settled for a day or two, then give her something to eat. If she doesn’t take it, I’ll have to get her another live one, she does  _ occasionally _ refuse to eat the frozen, especially if I’ve just upset her. It’s frowned upon, of course, but it’s not like it’s any different from the wild. Pretzel would eat nothing  _ but _ live prey if she didn’t live in a tank.” 

“You’ve fed her live mice before?” Ezra asked, raising an eyebrow. “I didn’t know you could do that, here.” 

“It’s frowned upon. You’re only supposed to do it if the snake won’t eat a frozen meal, which Pretzel  _ has _ gone through a spell or two of only eating living prey. Warlock thought it was  _ fascinating _ to watch her hunt, though, and so did I. It can be a little riskier, if they  _ don’t _ kill it the mouse can go after the snake. I had to bring her to a vet and get it confirmed that I  _ should _ give her anything live, or there can be a fuss, but if it’s in the name of her health it’s okay. I wouldn’t be surprised if she stops eating frozen for a few weeks, and pouts at me for moving her instead,” Crowley replied, peering at the snake through the glass. “There’s all the animal cruelty laws that make it difficult, you have to prove it’s in her best interest. They frown upon you doing it just for fun. Crickets are fine for lizards, but mice are  _ vertebrates _ so we care more about them. It’s the same principal, really.”

“So I take it that it doesn’t bother you to feed her live mice, then, Crowley,” Ezra said with a smile. 

“Would it bother you?”

“I think mice are rather sweet creatures,” Ezra admitted, a little mournfully. 

“Oh, I’m marrying a  _ softie,”  _ Crowley snickered, reaching a hand out to take Ezra’s. “She might eat just fine, and if she doesn’t, I’ll feed her while you’re not here until she does.” 

Ezra smiled and kissed the top of Crowley’s head. “Thank you, love. You’ve brought a lovely pet into  _ our _ home, but I don’t think I have the stomach to watch her eat something live. I will, however, advise that you ask Adam if he wanted to watch, because he might never forgive you if you don’t.” 

“Warlock thought it was really cool the last time we had to do it, too,” Crowley agreed, smiling just a little sadly. Ezra frowned. 

“I’m sure he’ll be back, Crowley. He went to see you in the hospital to tell you that he would be, even if he was still considering it,” the blond said gently. “He was seeing how the both of you reacted to a decision he had already made. He  _ wanted _ to come back to visit like Delilah suggested, but he needed to test it a little, that’s all.” 

“I don’t want to get my hopes up, Ezra. I don’t know what I’ll do if I let myself hope and he decides he  _ doesn’t _ want to see me. What  _ can _ I do if he does that? I can’t protest, I can’t argue, I have no legal or moral right to do so, and in fact, I’m morally bound  _ not _ to. I know it seems hard to believe with everything that’s happened but I do  _ love _ him, Ezra, as much as I would if he was  _ really _ mine, if I had  _ truly _ adopted him with intent and the goal of having a child, not just saving a young boy’s life,” Crowley murmured. 

“I know you do, Anthony. And so does Warlock, I’ll bet. Just give him some time. For now, let’s get your clothes packed into the right drawers in the bedroom, then I’ll go over with a box and round up all your plants, and we can find homes for them, too.” 

“You really don’t mind, Ezra?” Crowley asked, looking around the flat. “It’s going to be crowded in here with plants everywhere, I could just get rid of some-”

“Don’t you  _ dare _ finish that, love. You wouldn’t let me get rid of any of my books if I were to move into your flat, you’ll not be getting rid of any of your plants. They’re  _ important _ to you, and for that reason, they stay,” Ezra replied, “besides, the flat always looks better with a touch of greenery. I always liked it when you would bring flowers, it really brightened the place up.”

“You’ll have a fresh bouquet of flowers from me every day for the rest of my life, if you want them,” Crowley promised, staring up at Ezra. 

They knew the adoration was plain on their face, they didn’t care at all. 

“Well, fresh each day might be a little unnecessary, Crowley, most bouquets last at least a couple of days, but I’ll always say yes to flowers, if they’re from you.” 

Ezra paused. “That reminds me, I made you something.” 

“Made me something?” Crowley looked at him in confusion. 

“Well, I need to start opening the shop again, and you still need to keep still and take it easy, and I didn’t want you to be bored if I can’t be with you all the time that I would like to be. So I was trying to think of something you might be interested in, and I thought I might recommend a few books for you but then I remembered your eyes have trouble with bright lights and it makes reading hard. So… well, while you were in the hospital, Crowley, I recorded…  _ myself _ reading some of my favourites. I don’t know if that interests you-”

“You made me  _ audiobooks _ of your favourite novels, Ezra?” Crowley couldn’t help but interrupt. 

“I do hope you don’t think it’s stupid-”

“Ezra, it’s the sweetest thing anyone has ever done for me.  _ Thank you.”  _

“I love you, Crowley.”

“I love you too, Ezra.” 


	42. Chapter 42

Warlock nearly knocked Crowley off her feet when he charged through the door to give her a hug. “I missed you, Anne,” he admitted, just barely loud enough for Crowley and Ezra to hear. 

Delilah stepped through the door and up to Ezra. “I didn’t think it would take  _ too _ long for Warlock to realize that life was  _ good _ and he missed his old guardians, and I was right.” 

“And you don’t mind?” Ezra asked, smiling at the sight of his fiance and the boy who  _ had _ been her son for ten years . 

“I didn’t even  _ see _ him for ten years, I don’t mind sharing him now. He was happy with you two, Ezra, and I’m perfectly fine with that. I think regular visits, both with and without me, are a good idea. I already know you two can be trusted to look after him. Speaking of getting together, it’s a ways away, but do make sure to be available for his birthday this year? It’s his  _ Bar Mitzvah  _ and I would hate for you two to miss it.”

“He shares his birthday with Adam, so I’m sure aside from that, we’ll be readily available,” Ezra assured her. 

“They have the same birthday? Somehow, I didn’t know that! That’s simply wonderful!” Delilah said with a grin. “Well, we’ll have to make sure to make plans for the both of them that day.” 

Warlock eventually pulled away, and Ezra had never seen Crowley be so quick to let him go, respecting his wishes the moment they showed. 

“Hello, Warlock,” Ezra said with a smile, and also got a hug.

“I missed you, too, Ezra. Oh, Pretzel’s here now!” 

Warlock ran off to go and say hello to the snake, and inform her that he had missed her, as well. 

“He’s been excited to see her, since I told him that the cat is absolutely fine, but I’m not having a pet snake in the house. I don’t particularly like them,” Delilah laughed, “although I’m sure yours is very sweet, Crowley.” 

“Nah, Pretzel’s a brat. I would never use her as an example for why someone should get a snake. She’s bitey and moody. I just like snakes and her moodiness suits the rest of the house. If she was the example for having a pet python, I don’t think many people who have one,” Crowley said, walking over to the tank and peering in at the python. Her skirt flared out behind her as she walked, back playing at her heels while the front barely met her knees. Ezra had learned a new appreciation for skirts now that Crowley was looking for one for their wedding, even if she refused to let him see her choices. “Did you want to hold her, Warlock? I haven’t pulled her out of there yet today, and she always did like you. You know the rules and how to handle her, after all.” 

Warlock nodded, and Crowley carefully pulled the snake out of her enclosure, held her for a moment or two to make sure she wasn’t too moody, and handed her to Warlock, who immediately walked over to Delilah with her. “See, she’s not scary!” 

Ezra laughed. “Warlock, you’re walking up to your aunt with a four-foot long yellow and black python and telling her that it’s not scary. I’m afraid there’s not much validity there, especially after I watched the  _ sweet little snake _ eat a mouse whole while it was still  _ squirming.”  _

“You really do not have the stomach for live-feeding her, do you? I only had to do that a couple of times, she’s gone back to just hating white frozen mice and I don’t have a cat to feed them to when I inevitably get one, even though I  _ tell _ the person grabbing them I don’t want any white ones, so those go to waste. She just needed some time to adjust to the bookshop, like I thought she would,” Crowley remarked, walking over to where the others were standing.

“She is pretty, I’ll give you that,” Delilah said, contemplating the python in Warlock’s arms. 

“She’s a vanilla bumblebee, hence the yellow and the stripes,” Crowley explained, walking over and running two fingers along her smooth scales. “And she’s a total brat. Loves to bite for no apparent reason, and when she has a reason she’s worse. Thank goodness she finished shedding last week.” 

Pretzel’s tongue flickered over Crowley’s fingers, Ezra’s fiance watched the snake carefully. “Don’t you start with me, you’ll go right back in the tank, and I’ll let all the children that come in here with their parents gawk at you and be right obnoxious. You be polite to Warlock, and me.” 

Delilah chuckled as Crowley lectured the snake. Pretzel just flicked her tongue against Crowley’s fingers again, and Crowley sighed. 

“Oh, come on, Anne, she was always well-behaved for me, remember?” Warlock said, smiling at the python in his arms. 

“Yeah, that’s true, she always did like you, that was sort of the stipulation to her  _ staying. _ Ball pythons don’t kill children like  _ some _ pythons, but I didn’t want her to be too aggressive with you nonetheless.” 

“People keep man-eating snakes as  _ pets?” _ Delilah asked, eyes wide. 

“Well, not normally after they’ve eaten a man, but yes, you can get ones that  _ could _ eat someone if they tried. Ball pythons are  _ not _ that. This is as big as Pretzel gets.” 

Pretzel had apparently decided that she was done being held by Warlock, and she stretched herself out to flick her tongue over Delilah's hand. Crowley stepped in to intervene, placing a hand under Pretzel’s long neck and coaxing the snake onto her shoulders, instead. “Don’t be rude, Pretzel, some guests don’t want to cuddle with you and that’s okay, we’ve been over this,” Crowley scolded. 

After a few more minutes, Pretzel nipped at Crowley’s hand, which was a good indication she was ready to go back in her tank. Crowley stuck her back inside and led everyone into the flat proper. 

Adam was reading a book on the sofa, he didn’t appear to have noticed that Delilah and Warlock had arrived until they walked into the flat. 

As soon as he did realize, however, he and Warlock made off from the room, thick as thieves. Crowley smiled. “I guess they’ve missed each other. Adam has been saying as much.” 

“So has Warlock,” Delilah agreed, “I brought dessert, I hope that’s okay!”

“Delilah, dessert is always far more than okay. Ezra’s been trying his hand at baking but-” Crowley leaned over to Delilah’s ear, but Ezra could still hear every word she said, “He’s not very good just yet and I wouldn’t recommend eating the cake he made.” 

“Crowley, I know you know I can hear you. You’re just being rude now, dear, I truly am getting better,” Ezra complained, crossing his arms and shooting Crowley a glare. 

“I know you couldn’t eat last night’s pound cake either, Ezra, I’m not being rude, just truthful,” Crowley replied, but leaned away from Delilah and pressed a kiss to her fiance’s cheek. 

She smelled of vanilla and leather and a hint of something spicy, which as far as Ezra knew was  _ not  _ a perfume scent, so he didn’t know how she did it. “You are getting better. Maybe if you keep working you can make our wedding cake.” 

Ezra snorted and shook his head. “I’ll leave that one to the professionals, thank you very much. I would hate for us to recoil from our first bites. Besides, I tried making Italian buttercream and it’s just not the same. If I could, I would, believe me, but you can rest easy knowing we’ll get the cake professionally done. No risk of what happened last night.” 

Delilah frowned. “I think I have to know, what did happen last night?” 

“The cake collapsed in on itself and tasted more like baking soda than cake!” Crowley cackled, walking into the kitchen. “Red or white, Delilah?”

“Red,” she replied, and Crowley pulled down a good bottle of red. 

One of the stipulations of them living together had been that Ezra stopped being  _ quite _ so restrictive on the wine  _ they _ owned. After all, both of their incomes were coming from the same shop, now, and Crowley had already expressed being amenable to merging bank accounts if Ezra was comfortable doing so. Crowley didn't go out of her way to get bottles that would make Ezra uncomfortable if he looked them up, but for New Year's this year Crowley had picked up some nice champagne and another bottle of the  _ Chateauneuf du Pape _ they had shared the first time they'd eaten together, and hadn't been willing to hear a word of protest. 

It wasn't like he could  _ complain,  _ the second bottle had been just as good as the first, and it was sweet that Crowley remembered and picked some up. 

Ezra led Delilah into the sitting room and Crowley walked in with three glasses of wine in her hands, gave them out and took a seat beside Ezra. 

Crowley was not too proud to admit that she had almost burst into tears when Warlock ran through the bookshop door to give her a hug.

She really hadn't wanted to let him go, either, but respecting his distance and his personal space was the most important thing she could possibly do right now. He was establishing boundaries, for both himself and her, and it was very important that Crowley not interfere. 

The last thing she wanted to do now was chase him away. Not now that the few months in the bookshop had felt like some of the loneliest times of Crowley's life, even though she was living with her fiance Adam.

Warlock was willing to come back, one step at a time, and Crowley wouldn't push no matter how much she wanted to wrap her arms around him and never let him go again. He wasn't her son anymore, and it wasn't her place to do so.

She loved the boy almost more than anyone or anything else in the world, but it wasn't her place to do that anymore. He wasn't hers to cherish and love that way anymore, he never really had been. 

Crowley adored Adam, too, truly the boy made it easier to ignore the sting in her heart about losing Warlock, but it wasn't the same. 

She had  _ raised  _ Warlock. Taught him to read and write and tie his shoes, brought him up through  _ ten years  _ before having to give that up. 

She was grateful that she had possibly the most understanding of proper guardians for Warlock. Someone who understood what had happened in its entirety, who could appreciate Crowley's position and not fault her for it.

Who was willing to  _ encourage  _ the relationship she had with Warlock. To have him continue to visit the woman who had raised him, even if everything had been a lie.

Crowley broke out the good wine without telling Ezra, as she did every time she had a chance to share a drink with Delilah. While Warlock hadn't been back yet, Delilah had come around to visit a number of times. 

Crowley liked hearing from her. She would bring updates on Warlock, funny anecdotes and never once made Crowley feel like the monster she knew she was for having separated this woman from her nephew for ten years. 

No matter how necessary it had been, it was a monstrous thing to do, to look someone in the eye and tell her you were going to have to take their flesh and blood away from them indefinitely. Crowley did regret having to do it. 

"So, dare I ask how the court case goes? Your attorney hasn't contacted me yet, I rather thought they would. Figured having me to attest that you keeping Warlock was pre-arranged was something that would help," Delilah remarked. 

"They're still fine-tuning a deal with the prosecution. I'm sure if I  _ need  _ character witnesses, or someone to back up my story, they'll call you in, but for now they're hoping that my cooperation and the documentation of my assistance is enough to warrant leniency. Ideally, my lawyer doesn't see it even going to trial. Probably just a hearing, if they can work out a good deal and I agree to take it." 

Delilah nodded. "I'm glad you've got someone in your corner. I would hate for your wedding to be delayed for something inconvenient like a court trial or a prison stint."

"You and me both. Lawyer's pretty sure the prosecution will agree to house arrest if I agree to help them take down everyone else. I mean, Bee is dead, but there's still Hastur, Ligur and Dagon and any of the higher ups I can give them enough to warrant a trial for," Crowley replied, "funny thought, to be testifying against the people who took me in when I got thrown out by my parents. They deserve it, of course, just seems a little ungrateful."

Delilah nodded. "I can see that, I guess, although I would like to think your obligation to them ended a long time ago."

"I signed up for a lot of things, Delilah. Murder wasn't one of them. I really don't think I can  _ ever _ say enough how sorry I am about your sister and brother-in-law."

"I don't want you to apologize every time you see me, Crowley. You kept my nephew safe for ten years. You said it yourself that they were prepared to kill him the day the kidnapping went wrong. I'll choose to appreciate you putting yourself at risk to save Warlock rather than blame you for driving a getaway car," Delilah said simply, sipped her wine. "This is really nice, by the way."

"Indeed," Ezra agreed, "much nicer than even what I let you get away with in our regular stock."

"Name one person more deserving of the fruits of my ill-gotten gains than Delilah, angel, I'll wait. Until then, enjoy the wine and stop complaining."

Ezra huffed, but took another sip, and Delilah chuckled. "Still debating over expenses, are you?" 

"A little bit. We're getting better," Crowley replied, "Ezra finally let me replace some of his convenience store wine so things are looking up."

Ezra snorted into his wine glass. "I told you  _ specifically  _ to keep the bill for  _ all  _ the replacements under two hundred pounds-"

"And I decided to spoil my fiance instead. I know, I'm a monster. It's  _ our  _ money, Ezra, and someday I'll get you used to that." 

"Are you at least a successful enough florist to  _ keep u _ p your habits if the money runs out?" Delilah asked, raising an eyebrow. 

"I am, and besides, the hospital is going to settle rather than go to court with you, if you agree to it, everyone knows that. They’ll offer you what they decide your silence and my life is worth, and request the charges be dropped. It’s what institutions like that  _ do.  _ They  _ could _ fight it, but they  _ know _ with the sponge you have them dead to rights,” Crowley said flippantly. “Your lawyer has them nailed down and they know it. They left a  _ sponge  _ in my goddamned chest and left it there for long enough that it almost killed me. I’d like to see them weasel out of the responsibility for that, it might not have been on purpose but it  _ was _ negligence. All they had to do to avoid it was keep count of how many bloody sponges they used. And I mean, full jury cases  _ pay _ more but you can lose those. I would just take whatever settlement they offer. I’m alive, after all.” 

“And what does getting a settlement mean for our wine issues, Crowley?” 

“I won’t be the only one with a significant financial contribution, and you can feel better about expensive wine,” Crowley said, matter-of-fact. 

“She has got you there, just a little bit, Ezra,” Delilah remarked, “not that it’s really any of my business, but she has got a point. I assume that particular lawsuit is going well?”

“Eh, it’s more of a no-news good-news situation. The hospital hasn’t come up with the means to fight the lawsuit, so at the moment, they’re stuck.” 

“What a shame, they’ve yet to think of a way to get away with almost killing one of their patients,” Delilah snickered, “and almost ruining the decade-long organized crime case the police had set up in the process.” 

“Organized crime makes that  _ whole _ group sound too competent, Delilah,” Crowley said, sipping her wine. “I firmly believe the only way they didn’t crash and burn a long time ago was the two dirty police they had working with them, cleaning up their messes. They’re all a bunch of dangerous, unpredictable idiots. Their whole  _ threat _ was being stupid and unpredictable.”

Delilah was about to answer when Adam and Warlock walked back into the room. “Is dinner ready yet? We’re starving, Uncle Ezra,” Adam said plaintively, and Ezra smiled. 

“I suppose it is, if you’re ready to eat. It’s been chilling in the fridge for a few hours now.” 

“In the fridge?” Warlock repeated, looking concerned. 

“Ezra convinced me to help him make sushi, Warlock, I made a few rolls I’m sure you’ll like,” Crowley said, without even thinking about it, because she had. Without even thinking about it she had remembered Warlock’s objection to most fish and made a roll or two for the boy who  _ used _ to be her son. 

Thankfully, no one commented on that fact. Warlock just smiled gratefully at her. “Thank you, Anne,” he said, and headed for the kitchen to wash up. 

“I guess it’s dinner time, now. You don’t have an objection to raw tuna, do you? Or salmon? Ezra’s got that in just about everything.”

“Tuna and salmon are both fine,” Delilah assured her, “just point out the shellfish for me to avoid and I’ll be fine.” 

“Of course. Most of it is fake, anyways, I sent Ezra to do the shopping.” 

Crowley walked into the kitchen while Ezra squawked playfully behind her.


	43. Chapter 43

“How do you plead?”

Crowley didn’t blink before answering, he already knew what his answer had to be, if he wanted the deal the prosecution had offered. “Guilty of all charges, your honour,” he replied. 

It was a very simple deal. Plead guilty, he’d be sentenced to house arrest, so long as he agreed to testify against his fellow colluders. He didn’t have an objection to the fact that this went on his record if he didn’t try to defend himself, he owned his own business, criminal background checks were very rarely a problem to him. 

“And you understand the conditions of your negotiated deal, Mister Crowley?”

“Yes, your honour.” 

The judge seemed satisfied with that answer. It wasn’t a difficult sentencing hearing when everything was already worked out behind the scene. The prosecution had walked in and offered a plea deal, for Crowley to confess his guilt in exchange for a sentence of parole and house arrest. They’d been in the courtroom no more than a half an hour. 

“Very well. I remand you into the custody of the parole officers, who will arrange the conditions of your house arrest. This matter is now closed. Dismissed!”

The judge smacked the gravel into the desk she sat at. 

Immediately, the prosecuting lawyer walked over to where Crowley sat, in the box, at the back of the room. “You’ll be called to court when we need you to testify, Mister Crowley. We appreciate your cooperation in these matters.”

“Rather works out to both of our benefits, doesn’t it? I imagine you would have dealt far harsher than house arrest if I had refused to cooperate. I’m getting married this fall, I’d really rather not be behind bars for the ceremony.”

“You do have a point there. Still, it’s good to have a willing witness. I’ll see you later on, Mister Crowley.” 

Crowley nodded, and the barrister walked away. 

His own lawyer walked up to him. “I hope you didn’t tell him anything,” they remarked, “it’s cheap, talking to you without my being there.” 

“Just letting me know how I’ll be informed that he needs me in court. I know better than to talk,” Crowley replied with a smile. “Your plan worked, I can live with house arrest much more easily than I can serving hard time.” 

“I did figure that would be the case. I’m sure your fiance will be eager to have you back. The parole officer you’ll be dealing with wants to speak to you, they’ll arrange an ankle monitor and other such things, do you want me there?”

“I think I can handle it,” Crowley assured them. 

“Excellent. It’s been good working with you, Mister Crowley. Stay out of trouble, I’ll be in court when you testify, but I doubt you’ll have much need of me going forward.”

“Thank you, Mx Reynolds,” Crowley said, before the lawyer could walk away. “Thank you. Truly. I never imagined a future where I didn’t do time, I thought it was foolish to even consider. You saved me everything. I won’t forget it.” 

“You’re very welcome, Mister Crowley. I’ll see you again at the other trials, call me if you have any problems.” 

Mx Reynolds walked away, and a rather stern looking woman took their place standing beside Crowley. “If you’ll just come with me, we can establish the terms of your house arrest, get you fitted with a monitor and you’ll be good to go.” 

“Sounds good to me,” Crowley agreed, “I take it I can leave the box now?”

“Indeed you can. Is anyone coming to pick you up?” 

“My fiance will be here when he finishes his own hearing, he’s engaged in a lawsuit with the hospital that almost killed me. I told him he should settle, but it sounds like the lawyer has an excellent case, so they’ve gone to trial,” Crowley replied, “which the extra cash won’t hurt, as long as he actually wins the case. Either way, the lawyer is confident, apparently there were more than a few mistakes made when they left a sponge in my chest.” 

He stepped out of the box and followed the parole officer into a backroom. 

“Right, well, good luck to your fiance. Now, about your sentence. So far, it’s programmed that you have to stay at home, as from what I understand you work from home,” she began, opening a black box and pulling out an ankle monitor. “Take a seat, please.” 

Crowley sat down on one of the two chairs in the room, held out his left foot with his uncharacteristically loose pant leg already rolled up. 

The lawyer had insisted on a suit for the hearing, and Crowley couldn’t wait to get back into his normal jeans. “I do work from home.”

“Right. If you need to go anywhere, if it’s an emergency, such as the police station or the hospital, just go and things will be sorted out later. If you know you have an appointment, you can call the parole office to make arrangements for an escort, which will keep the monitor from pinging you away from home. Remember to call, your compliance with these conditions is the only thing between you and a prison sentence, understand?”

“I do,” Crowley agreed, and the woman fixed the monitor onto his ankle. 

It was a bit heavier than Crowley had expected, when she was finished he took a few experimental steps around the room, then she told him to sit back down. 

Once he complied, she tried hard to pull the monitor off his ankle. 

It held fast, even after Crowley complained and was almost pulled off his chair. 

“Good. They’re tamper-proof, if you try to cut it off or anything like that, an alarm will go off.”

“I have no intentions of getting rid of it. I’m just glad not to be going to prison, ma’am.”

“They all say that, and I still answer tampering alarms. It’s waterproof, so don’t worry about that, if it does get damaged, give us a call as soon as you realize. There are consequences to trying to get out of house arrest, and if you don’t call us, we’ll be forced to believe you were trying to get rid of it.” 

Crowley nodded. “Will do.” 

“Good. Stay here until your fiance comes to pick you up, we have to release you into someone’s custody. The front desk will make you and your fiance sign out, and then you’re free to go home.” 

Crowley nodded. Once the parole officer had left the room, he took out his phone, took a photo of the monitor on his ankle and sent it to Ezra. 

You’re probably still in court and won’t get this, but you get to bring me home with you tonight. 

There was no answer, which told Crowley the hospital case was still in session, not that he minded. 

He found himself a comfortable bench outside of Ezra’s courtroom and took a seat. He could go in, it wasn’t a public case but he was a part of the plaintiffs, but he trusted Ezra and his lawyer to handle the case themselves. 

Besides, he was tired of sitting in a courtroom, even if he wouldn’t be stuck in the box for this one. 

The doors finally opened in a few hours, when Crowley’s phone was mostly dead, and after a few hospital officials and a number of very expensive lawyers stepped out, Ezra and his own legal team walked out

Ezra saw him immediately, reached down and gave him a hug. “Glad to see you’re not incarcerated, my dear, I was worried. Could barely focus on my own case!” 

“I’m fine, angel, I was giving the prosecution everything they needed if they offered the deal. It was in their best interest not to pursue this in court, they were always going to offer something. How is your case going?”

“The legal team assures me we have at least another few days of back and forth, but it’s going very well,” Ezra replied, kissed his cheek. “I think we should pick up some food on our way home, and go relax. We’ve had a busy day.”

“Better off to order delivery, Ezra, I’ve got a few specific places I’m allowed to be,” Crowley reminded him, holding up his ankle and waving it around. 

“Right, of course. Well, you choose where and you can order while I drive us home.” 

“Nuh-uh. The Bentley has seen enough of your driving for the next couple of months, and my phone is almost dead. You have to escort me home, true, but they didn’t say anything about you needing to be the driver. Hand over the keys.” 

Ezra smirked, sighed out his nose before he handed Crowley the keyring. “There you are, now let’s get you home.”

Crowley liked the sound of that. 

Adam was very interested in the ankle monitor Crowley now wore, and immediately started poking around at it when they got home, asking all sorts of questions that neither Ezra nor Crowley knew the answers to. 

Still, his enthusiasm about the whole situation was amusing, if nothing else. 

Ezra had ordered chinese takeout, something he remembered Crowley mentioning being able to live off of when they had first met. Ezra also liked chinese food, although he wasn’t convinced he could eat nothing but, and Adam would eat wantons and rice and ginger beef. 

“So you really can’t leave at all?” Adam asked, poking at the ankle monitor. “Not even to… get milk from the corner store, or pick me up from school in the rain?”

“Really,” Crowley confirmed, letting Adam examine the device strapped to his ankle. “I have to stay here all the time, so if you need a ride home from school, it’s going to have to be from Ezra for the next eighteen months. 

“So how are you going to go find your outfit for the wedding?” Adam asked, frowning, “or are you not getting married this fall anymore?” 

“I can call the parole officer and get permission to go out to a few arranged locations,” Crowley explained, “so Madame Tracy can still take me shopping, as she’s insisting on. Says I’m not allowed to go by myself, since I’m supposed to have my mother going with me, and that’s not going to happen.” 

Keziah Dueck would actually be rather excited to take Crowley shopping for a wedding dress, or a skirt, as he would insist. 

She had always imagined Crowley in a puffy wife gown, walking down the aisle of a pretty, decorated chapel. 

But Crowley fully intended to let Ezra be the one in white. He wanted a black suit jacket and a red skirt. That alone his traditional, mennonite mother wouldn’t approve of. 

Never mind the fact that she didn’t feel like being insulted and deadnamed the entire time she went outfit shopping. 

“I think you and Madame Tracy will have a lovely time,” Ezra remarked, “and I’m glad you won’t be alone. Everyone needs a friend to shop with! You should invite Delilah!”

“Who’s going with you, Sergeant Shadwell?” Crowley asked, raising an eyebrow. 

“Well, he is rather insistive,” Ezra said, coming to sit down beside Crowley. “And I’ll be bringing Adam, and one of us should bring Warlock.” 

“Well, if I’m inviting Delilah, I should bring Warlock with me too. He likes shopping for clothes, only he doesn’t like trying them on, so this is really the best of both worlds.” 

Ezra couldn’t help but laugh. “Well, in that case, maybe he should come to both! I still don’t see why you won’t let me go with you, you’ve made it rather clear that you’re not a bride. It’s not bad luck to see my fiance in their wedding outfit, just the bride in her wedding gown!” 

“I might be a bride, is what I said, and it’s tradition. I’m wearing a skirt, which is close to a dress, so I’m not letting you see it!” 

Ezra smiled, leaned down and gave Crowley a kiss before sitting beside him. “Alright, alright, you keep being stubborn then,” he agreed. 

“Besides. What if I’m just hiding it because I want to take your breath away at our wedding, like you do to me everyday?” 

“Crowley, you could wear a paper bag to our wedding and do that, I swear to you. But, if it’s so important to you that I don’t see what you’re wearing until the day of the wedding, then I respect that.”

“I’m glad, and I promise not to go snooping on your suit, either. We can each surprise each other,” Crowley replied with a smile. 

Ezra opened his mouth to say something else when the doorbell rang. “It sounds like dinner is here,” he remarked. 

Crowley tossed Ezra his wallet out of the pocket of his suit jacket. “I’m going to go get changed, go ahead and start without me. I really don’t like these trousers.” 

“I refuse to believe that it’s possible in any dimension for your skinny jeans to be more comfortable than dress slacks.”

“Well, then you would be wrong.”

Crowley stood up from the couch and headed into the bedroom to try and figure out how to pull his skinny jeans over the ankle monitor, which took longer than anyone could have reasonably anticipated. 

Ezra and Adam were mostly finished when Crowley stepped out in pyjama bottoms, and shot them both a stern look. "Not a word."

"Oh, Crowley, I don't have to say anything!" Ezra laughed, sticking a chicken ball into his mouth. "You're saying everything for me."

"I'll figure something out tomorrow. For now I'm too tired to fight with it," Crowley replied, taking a seat and dishing himself some Chinese takeout. "I can't believe I have an entire computer in my cellphone but they haven't figured out how to make an ankle monitor that isn't huge and clunky."

"I think they're meant to be huge and clunky, Crowley. They're not really meant to be convenient, if you think about it," Ezra said mildly. 

"Well that's just petty. Either way, I'll get used to it. So, Adam, you had the day to yourself today, what did you get up to?"

"I went and saw Pepper and Brian and Wensleydale, and we all met back at Pepper's place to play some video games with Warlock. He says hello, by the way," Adam replied. 

Delilah had found a place to live in the neighbourhood, so that Warlock could still see his friends, but at the moment she had him in America, meeting all of his relatives. It was good that even an ocean and six hours apart, the children still found ways to hang out together. 

"Is he enjoying America?" Ezra asked, looking over at Adam. 

"He says it's a lot like London, only everything is a little newer. And apparently they have thirty-nine flavours of ice cream, but Pepper doesn't believe him," Adam replied. 

"Thirty-nine does sound like a lot," Crowley agreed. "And what about tonight? You kids up to anything?" 

"I was hoping we could play Scrabble."

Ezra smiled, a big, wide, warm smile that warmed Crowley's heart to see. "Of course we can, Adam."


	44. Chapter 44

“Angel, do you have a preference?” Crowley asked, holding both of the two dresses they owned out in front of them. 

Ezra barely had to look up before answering, he knew full well what both of them looked like. “Dear, you look  _ wonderful _ in both of those, but you  _ know _ you can’t wear either to a religious affair. You  _ might _ get away with the red one if you wear a closed shawl.” 

Crowley shrugged and put both dresses back in the closet. “Right, well, I guess I don’t have a dress for the occasion then. I’ll just have to grab one of those too, while I’m out skirt shopping. I suppose now I can call it dress shopping like most people do.” 

Ezra smiled fondly at her. “Crowley, you  _ know _ you don’t need an excuse to go out and buy a dress if you’d like to, but  _ that _ is a flimsy excuse. You have plenty of dress shirts and skirts that are modest enough, and if you  _ didn’t _ , pantsuits are perfectly acceptable, too, it’s the twenty-first century, and even if it wasn’t, I was under the impression you  _ weren’t _ feeling overly feminine today and just wanted a dress.”

“These things change, angel,” Crowley replied, walking over and pressing a kiss to Ezra’s cheek. “Although I do admire you keeping up with it, you have a point. Either way, I’d like to wear a dress, and you have a point that neither of those are for family events. I don’t  _ own _ a shawl.”

“Well, Delilah is going with you, isn’t she? So you have the perfect person to check to make sure you  _ can _ wear the one you pick. And you know Tracy will jump at the chance to help you pick out a dress, too.” 

“Oh, that’s part of what I’m  _ afraid _ of, angel. Anyways, I said I would drive, so I’d better get going. I’ll see you this afternoon,” Crowley said, gave Ezra another kiss. 

“Don’t you  _ dare _ be late, it’s going to take both of us to coax Adam into his suit!” 

Crowley laughed. “I’ll have the birthday boy and his aunt in my car, angel, I  _ can’t _ be late!” 

“You cleared this with the parole officers, right? The  _ last _ thing we need is you being arrested to ruin the day.” 

“Yes angel, I called them weeks ago to tell them we had plans for today, go clearance to go shopping  _ and _ to the party afterwards,” Crowley promised, “now I’d really better get going if we’re going to have any time for shopping, Ezra. The wedding is only a month away, we’d best hope I don’t find anything that needs alterations!”

“Didn’t Madame Tracy say she could do them? And you already have your shoes, so you know how long it needs to be.”

“Right. Anyways, I’ve gotta go. Have fun with Adam!”

Ezra laughed, and Crowley ran down the stairs. 

They hopped into the Bentley, fought with the radio to try to get it  _ not _ to play Queen, but it appeared to be on every station  _ and _ in their CD player, and drove to pick up Tracy, then Delilah and Warlock. 

Madame Tracy immediately began chattering about ruffles and fabrics and crinoline, which Crowley opted just to let her. 

They already had an idea of what they wanted, but Madame Tracy was much like a nicer version of Crowley’s own mother. She was well past the idea of a white wedding, true, but she still had a wedding gown in mind, at least of some sorts. 

She likely  _ wouldn’t _ have, and would have expected Crowley to get married in a suit, if they hadn’t asked her for her company. 

And Crowley had known Madame Tracy for over a decade now, and she knew Tracy was going to be like that. They would try on a couple of extravagant gowns before reeling things back down to their own plans, and Madame Tracy would be happy.

Crowley finally interrupted Madame Tracy's banter when Warlock and Delilah got into the car. "Happy birthday, kiddo," they said, smiling at Warlock. 

"Thanks, Anthony. You're coming today, right?"

Crowley twisted around in the front seat to grin at Warlock. "You think I would miss it? I've never missed one of your birthdays! Ezra is at home right now trying to convince Adam he has to dress up, and on that same note, I have to  _ get  _ something to wear, but we'll be there. Now, if I'm supposed to find something to wear today, something to wear for my wedding and get you guys back home in time to get ready for everything, we'd better get moving." 

"You have nothing you can wear to a synagogue?" Delilah asked, raising an eyebrow. 

Crowley shrugged. "Nothing I  _ want  _ to wear, at least. Ezra's won his suit against the hospital, so he's loosened up about money, and he's the one who told me neither of the dresses I own are appropriate."

"You don't have to wear a dress, Crowley. Not unless you want to," Delilah told them.

"Don't worry, I know, I just felt like it. I'm well aware not  _ every  _ faith is like my bananas parents. And for the record, I am over thirty and I could and would walk into a religious service at their church in a crop top and short shorts if for some reason I had to go back there, just to see their faces."

"If you need someone to drive you, let me know," Madame Tracy laughed. 

"I won't need a ride, but I'll bring you with me if you want to see it, Madame Tracy," Crowley replied. 

Crowley had a few stops in mind to look for their skirt. They started in the one they were least enthused about but was the closest, tried on the few big gowns that would satisfy Tracy and then led them back to a more muted skirt. 

They wanted to look nice, that was a given, but they didn't want a big wedding gown. 

They already had a good idea of what they wanted. It would either be a black skirt with a red men's blazer, or vice-versa. They were leaning towards a red skirt, simply because they already owned a nice black blazer.

But it was a nice day out, and they tried on all kinds of extravagant gowns before pulling out something they really  _ did _ like.

They tried it on immediately, stepped out of the dressing room and smiled. “I know it’s more simple than you were hoping, Madame Tracy, but I think I like this one,” they said, doing a bit of a twirl. 

Madame Tracy tilted her head and observed, clearly thinking about it, but Warlock was a little easier to convince. 

“I like that one, too!” He declared. 

“I think it suits you,” Delilah agreed, taking a moment to admire, “my only concern is that you’re going to have a hard time hiding the ankle monitor in photos, since it doesn’t cover your ankles.” 

Crowley looked down, but before they even did so, they knew Delilah was right. 

They reached down, lifted their ankle and twisted the device so the large piece sat behind their ankle, rather than on the side. “I don’t think it  _ needs  _ to be hidden,” they decided, peering back down. Most of the actual device was hidden now, there was just a black strap on their ankle. “I’m not  _ embarrassed _ by it. If you really think about it, I should be glad for it. I thought I was going to go to prison for  _ years, _ why should I be embarrassed by the thing keeping me free?” 

“It is very nice,” Madame Tracy agreed, “what are you thinking of wearing with it?”

“I can get a nice pair of shoes, a dress shirt, tie, and I have a black blazer already. I like the skirt, but I don’t want to be overly feminine in the plans, just in case I’m not feeling it that day.”

“I think that sounds lovely. Should we perhaps make sure you have a pair of dress pants, in case you don’t want to wear the skirt when the day comes?” 

Crowley shook their head. “I already have a suit from going to court, that will do if I’m not feeling the skirt. Now, I’m going to get this off, we should keep looking for whatever I’m going to wear today.” 

“Right. Well, I think that one is lovely, but just hold onto it for a while, don’t buy it just yet. You don’t want to end up finding something that you like better after you’ve already bought it,” Tracy said. 

Crowley smiled. “I see your point, but it’s a skirt, not a thousand pound wedding gown, so there’s not quite as much of a risk. If I were to find something else, I would just wear this some other time,” they replied. 

“Just think, if you find a different skirt or dress that you want for the wedding, you could wear that tonight!” 

Crowley smirked. “Exactly!”

“Adam! Everyone is getting dressed up for this, including Warlock, myself and Crowley, you’re not being targeted unfairly. Go put on your suit before Crowley gets home, I’m willing to bet they’re going to be a lot stricter about it than I am!” Ezra called into Adam’s room. 

“Do I  _ have _ to?” Adam asked, pulling the door open. 

He was dressed in jean shorts and a striped t-shirt. Ezra snickered. “We’re going to a synagogue, Adam, you certainly can’t wear that. Please, this is important for Warlock, and Delilah, and Crowley. And me, of course, but mostly them. It’s Warlock’s  _ bar mitzvah, _ and true, we don’t really have a full perspective on what that means, Crowley’s family is mennonite, mine went to an evangelical church and your parents-”

“Didn’t bring me to church,” Adam replied. 

“-which means that we don’t really get it, but it  _ is _ important, and it’s Warlock’s first birthday with his aunt, and  _ also _ his first birthday  _ not _ spent in Crowley’s care. Everyone involved deserves our love and support right now, and that includes you getting nicely dressed up.”

Adam made a face. “You know I don’t like wearing suits, Ezra,” he complained. 

“You could always wear a dress,” a voice said as it’s owner walked closer, carrying a couple of garment bags. “Although it might be a bit of a rush to get you one now, I wish you had said something  _ before _ we went shopping. Warlock has quite the eye for fashion, I’m sure he could have helped you pick one out.”

“I didn’t hear you come in, love,” Ezra said, turning around and giving Crowley a kiss on the cheek.

“I can be quiet when I want to be. So, since you didn’t say you would prefer a dress or a skirt before I went out shopping for those things, can you  _ please _ just wear your suit? I  _ might _ have something that would fit you hidden in a box somewhere, but probably not.” 

Adam smiled at Crowley. “You would really help me find a dress if I wanted you to?”

Crowley shrugged their shoulders. “Why wouldn’t I? Either way, it’s probably better right now if you just wear the suit for now, and we can get you something else next time, if you’d like.” 

“Alright, alright, I’ll wear the stupid suit,” Adam said with a groan, and Ezra handed it to him. 

“Thank you, Crowley, I’ve been trying to convince him to get dressed for the last half-hour,” Ezra murmured, reaching over to give his partner a hug. “Did you find something for our wedding?”

Crowley smiled. “I did, and I got a nice dress for tonight, although I need your help with the zipper. None of my other dresses zip up that high.”

“I’ve both noticed and appreciated that,” Ezra said with a laugh, and walked Crowley into their bedroom. 

Crowley had finished moving in a while ago, there was now a “For Sale” sign outside of their former flat and flower shop, and Ezra was still getting used to the new arrangements in the bedroom. Crowley no longer had just a drawer in Ezra’s dresser, they had clothes in most of the drawers, and half of the closet was full of their clothes. 

As a private joke, the statue that used to sit in Crowley’s hallway was now in the bedroom, as well as several plants.

Ezra liked it, he liked everything that indicated Crowley’s permanent presence in the bookshop. Crowley laid one of the garment bags on the bed and tucked the other into the back of the closet. 

Ezra unzipped the bag still left on the bag while Crowley quickly stripped off the jeans and t-shirt they were wearing. 

The dress Crowley had picked was yet again a shade of red, this one a dark burgundy, but it had full sleeves, a complete, mid-length skirt and a closed back, which made it much more appropriate for the event than either of the other ones. “This is very nice,” Ezra remarked, holding it up and handing it to Crowley, who pulled it over their head and then turned around so Ezra could zip up the back. After that, Crowley quickly tied the sash around their waist, gave Ezra a kiss, and walked into the bathroom to do their hair. “You should go and check on your nephew, make sure he knows how to tie a tie,” they advised. 

Ezra knew they had a point. He knocked on Adam’s door, waited until he swung the door open. 

His shirt was buttoned crookedly and untucked, and the tie was in a knot. “I don’t think I’ve done this right,” he admitted, smiling up at Ezra. “Aren’t you getting dressed up, too?”

“ _ I _ know how to tie a tie, and don’t need convincing to get into a suit, so I can go last. Do you need some help?” 

Adam nodded sheepishly. 

“Well, first of all, you need to unbutton your shirt, you’ve got it all lopsided.” 

Crowley was done doing their hair and had even put on some subtle makeup before Ezra had managed to successfully show Adam how to tie a tie, and they sent him into the bedroom to get changed, saying that Ezra had spent too long only tying bow ties and they would be a better teacher. 

When Adam was fully dressed with a correctly done tie by the time Ezra was done getting ready, he had to concede that Crowley had a point. 

Especially when he had to get their help to tie his own. 

And with that, the family made their way to the door and into the Bentley. 


	45. Chapter 45 (Final)

Crowley was not an earlier riser by nature, but they still woke up before Ezra on this particular day, leaned over and pressed a kiss to their fiance’s cheek. “Ezra,” they said, just loud enough to wake him, “get up, we’re getting married today!” 

Ezra opened his eyes slowly, blinking away sleep before he reached up and pulled Crowley into his arms. “Indeed we are. You’ve only got a few more hours of being my fiance,” he murmured. 

“I’d rather be your spouse, anyways,” Crowley replied. 

Ezra beamed up at them. “So, shall we go get some breakfast before you have to get ready? You’re not going to let me anywhere near you once you’re getting dressed, you’re being  _ rather _ insistent on keeping your outfit a secret.”

“Let’s get breakfast,” Crowley agreed, gave him another kiss. “And I’m just following tradition, Ezra, you should appreciate that, old-fashioned, traditional man you are.” 

They didn’t have to get breakfast, Warlock and Delilah had arrived early in the morning to help Adam cook up a small feast. There were waffles, eggs, bacon, hash browns, sausages and all sorts of other things. “I see the plan is to make sure I don’t actually fit into my skirt,” Crowley laughed, walking up to the boys and giving them both a hug. “Thank you two, it smells amazing.” 

There wasn’t really time in the busy schedule for a big breakfast, but Crowley and Ezra found it anyways. Delilah and the boys had gone to so much effort to make everything, so time would be found. 

And it was good to take some time to eat and not think about the wedding plans. Crowley still had to double-check the floral arrangements, Madame Tracy had done the alterations on Ezra’s suit and for some reason hadn’t gotten it back to them yet, and there were hundreds of other wedding-day arrangements to take care of. 

It was stressful to say the least, and Crowley was glad to have a moment not to think about it. 

After breakfast, they went and did the finishing touches with the flowers and sent Adam to bring Ezra his boutonniere. 

Most people used roses for boutonnieres, but Crowley was not most people. Ezra’s was made up of a single white lily and a couple of marigold buds. 

Crowley’s own bouquet had the same flowers, and their corsage matched Ezra’s boutonniere.

They were fairly proud of their work. The flowers and centerpieces were lovely, everything seemed to be in good condition, and Crowley finally allowed themself to take the flowers off the list of things they were still working on.

Madame Tracy’s skills as a former escort made her an excellent person to go to for hair and makeup. Crowley didn’t want anything too fancy or extravagant, and their only real preference was they didn’t want an updo, so Madame Tracy had a fair amount of free reign with their hair. 

It was, thankfully, a decision Crowley didn’t regret. Madame Tracy followed their request of subtle makeup, and the tight curls she made in Crowley’s hair after braiding their bangs was somehow nothing Crowley had pictured, and also perfect. 

After hair and makeup. Crowley had to actually finish getting dressed, and help Warlock into his suit.

They had been right. When they bought the skirt, it had fit like a glove, but now the waist seemed just a little tight. 

It was perfectly liveable, but a little strange. Crowley made a note to step on a scale in the near future. Not because they were concerned, just to confirm whether they actually had gained weight. 

They took the chance to also teach Warlock to tie a tie.

It wasn’t the same as teaching Adam, the way they had crouched down to help. 

Adam had muttered something about dads supposed to teach their sons to tie ties, and Crowley was relatively proud of their response. 

“Well Adam, my father refused to teach me to tie a tie, given that he saw no reason for me to ever wear one. He wanted me in poofy dresses that my mother picked out. I learned to tie a tie from the stranger in the store where I bought my first suit. As for you, your father didn’t get the chance to show you. Do you think we can square up the record if I show you now?” 

To their complete shock, Adam had seemed alright with that deal. 

Of course, for Warlock, it should have been Thaddeus Dowling doing the teaching, but the son of the American Diplomat had actually walked up to Crowley with his red tie undone and asked them to teach him. 

So Crowley had helped him with the knot, and then tied their own. 

They hadn’t gotten a cape after all, they were happy in just their dress shirt, blazer and skirt, with stockings on that the garters Ezra had reminded them about several times, for some reason, held up. 

That part of getting dressed, involving underclothes such as a bra, garters and stockings, they had thankfully been allowed to do without anyone else in the room. 

It  _ was _ their wedding, after all, and if Ezra was so insistent on garters, Crowley might as well provide the whole package. 

After getting dressed, there really wasn’t much to do. Ezra was taking care of Adam, whom Crowley had taken out shopping just two days ago when he had suddenly decided to take them up on the offer of a dress rather than a suit for the occasion.

The food had already been delivered, the cake looked incredible, Crowley really had to hand that to Ezra, and Crowley officially decided it was time to relax with a glass of some strange punch they had found, since they had decided not to drink for their wedding. 

Delilah decided to join them, since there was no official wedding party beyond Adam and Warlock, with Tracy and Shadwell serving as witnesses. Crowley didn’t have any bridesmaids, particularly since they weren’t one hundred percent sold on the title of bride. 

But if they  _ had _ been going to have a wedding party, Delilah certainly would have been a part of it. They owed a lot, nothing short of their  _ life _ , to that woman and her kindness and forgiveness. 

Just today, they owed their breath and the fact that the boy they had raised as their own son for ten years was present to Delilah Dachner. 

Not that Delilah would hear a word of it. She insisted she had done nothing that impressive, had just done what anyone  _ should _ do. 

While they were sipping on their punch, they should have had time to get jittery, but Crowley was perfectly calm. 

Maybe calm wasn't the right word, but they weren't nervous. They were excited. 

Wedding jitters were for people who didn't know absolutely that this was the right decision. 

Crowley truly did  _ know  _ this was right. They had no reason to be jittery. 

So no matter how much Delilah and Tracy gave them a hard time, Crowley wasn't nervous. They were simply waiting patiently for it to be time to walk the aisle. 

"Crowley? It's time!" Adam announced, poking his head into the room. "If you wait too long, Ezra's gonna think that you ran away!" 

Adam's dress was the same colour as Crowley's skirt, with a flat neckline and the same cut skirt. It was pretty, and nothing inappropriate for a thirteen year old, or too flouncy. Adam had tried on a flouncy dress and hadn't liked it. 

"You go and tell your uncle I'm not going  _ anywhere  _ but up to the altar with him," Crowley instructed. 

Adam nodded and ran off. 

Crowley stood up, brushed off their skirt, set down their glass of wine and picked up their bouquet, full of while lilies and marigolds. "Well, up you go, Warlock, I'm supposed to follow you," they said with a smile. 

Ezra looked magnificent. He had a pristine white suit, a black waistcoat and a red tie that matched Crowley's own. He beamed at them as he saw them walk up the center aisle. 

There were a few concessions and compromises made. They got married in Ezra's backyard, with the fallen orange and red leaves everywhere. There was no church around, but they were being married by a minister, although in an only slightly religious ceremony. 

It was important to Ezra that they be married in the eyes of God, too, but he knew it was important to Crowley that the ceremony be about  _ them.  _ Religion was something Crowley had left behind with their parents. 

So they found an in-between. 

Crowley finished walking up to Ezra, handed Warlock their bouquet and took both of Ezra's hands in theirs. 

"You look beautiful, dearest," Ezra whispered. Crowley smiled. "Well worth all the secrecy you made us keep."

"You're not so bad yourself." 

Ezra made Crowley cry with his vows, which was something he had threatened to do, Crowley had done their best to do the same, but one crying face was really enough for a wedding. 

Thankfully, Madame Tracy had used enough foresight to use waterproof makeup. 

The minister smiled. "By the power vested in me, I now declare you Mister and Mx Crowley-Fell. You may now kiss your spouse."

Crowley smiled and leaned in to kiss Ezra. 

Ezra met him in the middle, much like the very first kiss they had shared on New Year's Eve, with Crowley's cheapest champagne on their lips, and it had been perfect, just like this. 

Crowley prayed every moment of the rest of their life would be that perfect, too. 

  
  
  


Crowley had truly outdone themself, they were absolutely stunning. Ezra could barely keep his jaw off the ground through the entire ceremony. 

Crowley was always beautiful. Ezra had been victim to that from the moment his then-neighbour had stormed into his shop. He'd been so ready to tell whoever had just ran in off and resume dealing with Adam and Crowley had stolen his breath away. 

And now here he was, marrying the same person who had barged into his store. Two years later he was standing at the end of the aisle, hands intertwined with the beautiful redhead's who had tried to accost him over his nephew. 

And he could hardly contain his excitement enough to read his vows and say 'I do.'

They had a few hours to themselves before the reception, which was  _ not  _ in Ezra's backyard, as there wasn't much room for tables and dancing, most of which was spent on pictures, and then having take-out pizza for a late lunch. They weren't set to eat dinner until eight, and Crowley was absolutely starving. 

Which was unusual, it was normally Ezra who was hungry. He even suspected his spouse - goodness, Ezra loved thinking about that, even just a little bit, Crowley was his  _ spouse  _ now - had suggested pizza for Ezra's benefit before Crowley ate possibly more than Ezra had ever seen them eat in one sitting. 

And then it was time to go to the reception. 

Everything was lovely in the hall they had rented. At the head table, there were several places, for both Crowley and Ezra as well as Warlock and Adam and anyone else who wanted to come and chat. 

They did have a matching set of champagne glasses, but Crowley had opted not to drink for the wedding. They wanted to remember  _ everything  _ and had too much of a habit of drinking  _ too much.  _

Ezra had decided to join them. With dinner, they each had a glass of champagne that Crowley had picked, refusing to take no for an answer on being allowed to pick it once Ezra had mentioned one drink probably wouldn't hurt either of them, and then they drank the same sparkling fruit juices that were being served to the boys. 

Dinner was spectacular, Crowley pulled Ezra up shortly after for their first dance. 

Ezra didn't actually know what the song would be until it started playing. He knew immediately after would be his choice, but this one was a surprise. 

_ Love of my life, you've hurt me _

_ You've broken my heart, and now you leave me _

_ Love of my life, can't you see?  _

_ Bring it back, bring it back, don't take it away from me _

_ Because you don't know what it means to me... _

"Crowley… this isn't one of your bebop songs."

Crowley smirked. "No, it is, angel, just not one I've played for you before," they explained, "I worried you might not know it, but that's why we have two songs-"

"Crowley, I went looking for songs that would mean something to you, too. This isn't one of your typical bebop songs and it's the  _ same one I chose,"  _ Ezra said, beaming. 

Crowley couldn't help it, they cackled. "You're kidding me, angel," they said.

"I'm being entirely serious." 

Crowley smiled, rested their cheek on Ezra's shoulder. "As if we needed another sign for how perfect this is." 

Ezra was inclined to believe the same thing. "I love you so much, Crowley," he murmured. 

"I should hope so, you married me, angel," Crowley replied, only lasting a moment with a smirk on their face before they broke. "I love you too, angel. I… I thought this part of my life was something I had traded away when I was young. I… I really can't tell you how grateful I am that you came along and your nephew punched Warlock in the face to prove me wrong."

"Ugh, you two are being all soppy," Adam said, frowning as he walked up to Ezra. 

"It  _ is  _ our first dance, Adam," Crowley pointed out with a smile. "Unless I've lost it and it's not still Queen playing." 

"It is, we just think people are bored."

It was clearly Adam and Warlock who were bored, but Crowley and Ezra contemplated each other for a moment, shrugged, and then Crowley queued the DJ to change the song so everyone else could join in. 

Ezra really didn't mind, although he would be honest and say that he could have kept dancing with Crowley in his arms all night and never gotten tired of it. 

To Pepper's disgust, as Brian, Wensleydale, Pepper and their parents had all been invited as well, the bouquet practically hit her in the face after Crowley had thrown it, and she had hurriedly said something about 'not being a victim of the patriarchy' and handed it off to Anathema, the paramedic who had seen to Ezra's head wound, and now, Newton Pulsifer's plus one.

They hadn't had a lot of people to invite to the wedding, and Crowley had decided almost on a whim to send an invitation to the police officer they'd been in contact with for years. They had both been a little surprised when he actually RSVP'd that he would go, but all in all he was a welcome guest. 

And now it was Ezra's turn, although the smaller-than-usual group of unmarried men, given Crowley and Ezra's small friend group.

“Crowley, you need to sit down if I’m supposed to get your garter, I’m not small enough to fit under your skirt standing,” Ezra murmured, placing a hand on their arm. 

Crowley frowned. “Garter?” 

“You are wearing one, aren’t you?” 

“Yes, you reminded me, it seemed very important to you,” Crowley agreed. 

“Well, you’ve thrown the bouquet like you insisted on, now it’s my turn.” 

“What are you going to throw?” 

“I thought you’d said you’d been to weddings before, Crowley?” Ezra asked, raising an eyebrow. 

“I have!” 

“Well then, you know that you throw the bouquet, and I’m supposed to throw your garter, which means I need to get it. If you’d rather, I’m sure no one will mind if you go and take it off yourself, you don’t have to be comfortable with me grabbing it in front of everyone, or-”

“Angel, if you take my garter, then what’s going to hold up my stocking?” Crowley asked, cutting him off. 

Ezra was quiet for a moment. “You thought I meant you should actually wear a set of garters, didn’t you?” 

Crowley didn’t even get the chance to answer before he started giggling. 

“I thought it was just a thing you were into!”

“You’ve never been to a wedding where they tossed the garter at all the unmarried men?” Ezra asked. 

“I grew up with a bunch of prudish mennonites, you really think we made a thing out of the groom sticking his head up my cousin’s wedding gown? We did the bouquet toss, sure, but there was no one pulling off the bride’s garters! I just thought you were asking me to wear them for you!” 

“And you didn’t give me a hard time over that at all,” Ezra laughed, not ready to believe that at all. 

“I was going to after our wedding! I figured I would just let you have it and then give you a hard time over wanting to see me in stockings and garters later! I look pretty good in stockings and garters, can’t blame you for wanting to see.” 

Ezra didn't need any help to think about  _ that,  _ and now it was going to be  _ all  _ he thought about for the rest of the wedding. 

Crowley ended up giving Ezra a bobby pin out of their hair, which had enough hairspray to stay without it. It made for a more difficult catch, but it went off mostly without a hitch. 

By the time they retired, it was well into the early morning, Ezra's face ached from smiling and his feet ached from dancing, and he wanted nothing else but to crawl into his bed with his newly-named spouse. 

Delilah brought Adam and Warlock back to her own home. Crowley and Ezra  _ were _ honeymooning, but Crowley wasn't allowed to leave London, nevermind England, so, remembering a joke that had been made on their first date, Crowley had gone ahead and made a week-long reservation for them at the Ritz. They would go on a proper trip, with Adam, and Warlock if Delilah allowed it, in tow, when Crowley's house arrest was over.

"Right," Crowley said with a grin, flopped down onto the plush mattress beside Ezra, tie thrown across the back of a chair and shirt half-unbuttoned. "What do you want to do now, and if you say sleep, I'm going to smack you." 

"Well, you did say something about getting all dressed up in stocking and garters for me, dear."

"I did say that, didn't I? Well, come on then, husband, come and see!" 

Ezra liked the sound of that. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Right, so sorry for not mentioning it earlier but this is the final chapter, chapter 46 is going to get filled up with art, starting with the cover art and I'll add to it as I go. But don't fear, another part is coming! Keep your eyes peeled for These Are The Days, the upcoming sequel featuring a lot of domestic bliss, a lot of excitement, a few surprises and really not much angst at all! Thank you guys for sticking with me, you've been a wonderful audience (especially after you put up with my summer-long disappearance) and I can't wait to see you guys again soon!


End file.
